JSA: The Face Of Evil
by Bruce Wayne
Summary: Sequel and third part of the False-Face trilogy. Based in 1961. Concluding chapter 14 is now up! Several surprises in the final Batman/False-Face showdown on top of the Capitol. Who lives and who dies? Find out.
1. Chapter 1

JSA: The Face Of Evil  
  
By Bruce Wayne  
  
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters portrayed in this story are copyright by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit by the author.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a sequel and the third part to the False-Face trilogy. The previous two parts can be found in the DC Elseworld's section of FFN. The stories are titled: "JSA: Atrocity" and "JSA: If Looks Could Kill."  
  
CHAPTER 1  
  
Selina Kyle felt awkward and embarrassed, but men's clothing was all she could find in the house. More than an hour had passed since she had knocked out and bound her two captors.  
  
False-Face had made a big mistake, she mused to herself. Did he really expect two amateurs to hold the likes of Catwoman?  
  
It was dangerous to stay in the farmhouse, but a shower and washing her hair had been necessary to her sanity. She tied the tails of the plaid cowboy shirt at her waist. She had recently seen Marilyn Monroe do such a thing in a movie with Clark Gable called "The Misfits."  
  
The blue jeans were so big that she had to hold them up with her hand. She stopped beside the curtained windows of the dining room. Heavy drapes of deep maroon were tied back with a knotted cord of the same color. Spreading her knees to keep the large pants from falling down around her ankles, she undid the cord. She threaded it through the belt loops of the Levi's and cinched up the pants tight. On her feet were three pairs of borrowed sweat socks -- the men's shoes had been hopelessly large for her.  
  
Selina Kyle stared through the dining room window. Two vehicles were making their way up the driveway. She had waited too long. "Shit," she cursed through her teeth, and she started to run.  
  
She stopped by the open door of the bathroom to pick up the backpack she had found in the house. Inside it she had packed the two biggest butcher knives from the kitchen, and two candy bars. The car keys and clean handkerchief she'd discovered among the men's things were in the pockets of her borrowed pants.  
  
Selina stopped behind the kitchen door, brushing aside the window curtains slowly, peering through the glass to the backyard of the farmhouse. There were just chickens and nothing else.  
  
She opened the door, stepping out.  
  
Hearing the sounds of vehicles, she ran across the yard. Stones gouged through the scant protection of the three layers of athletic socks, cutting the tender flesh on the soles of her feet.  
  
She dropped into a crouch just beside the far corner of the barn, glancing into the yard again. Selina dug into the backpack for the one other item she had liberated from the house where she had been held prisoner: a lined nylon jacket that had belonged to one of her jailers. She pulled it on against the cold.  
  
Men were coming into the farmyard with what she recognized as submachine guns slung from their right shoulders. A tall, blond-haired man, handsome she thought, held a pistol with a silencer screwed to the muzzle.  
  
They were Nazis, not police.  
  
She pushed herself up from her crouched position and ran as silently as she could along the side of the barn. A quarter of a mile across an open pasture there were woods and cover, perhaps escape. If she hadn't waited to take a shower, to find the clothes, had just stolen a coat and made a run for it she would have been far away by now.  
  
But recriminations were a luxury she had no time for at the moment, she decided. She threw herself into a run, looking quickly over her shoulder.  
  
The men had spotted her. "Halt! Miss Kyle! Halt -- halt or we'll open fire!"  
  
"Up yours!" She screamed the words. She was on the open field now, aiming herself toward the tree line. Unless they were good with their submachine guns, it would be dicey shooting at the yardage. Behind her, she heard them opening up.  
  
The tree line was close now, while behind her the sounds of vehicles grew louder.  
  
Selina looked back. A station wagon was lurching and bumping across the field. Men hung on to the sides from the luggage rack, balanced in the doorways, shooting at her.  
  
She darted behind the trunk of an oak tree. Chunks of bark exploded from it as submachine-gun fire hammered toward her. Her lungs ached with the exertion and the coldness of the air. Gathering herself up, she started to run again, deeper into the woods where the men would have to follow her on foot.  
  
For an instant she thought of the thunderbolt-shaped scar on the left side of the neck of the man known as False-Face, and tears welled in her eyes.  
  
Selina Kyle, her white socks stained red with her blood, kept running.  
  
***  
  
"That's him, calls himself Wildcat, he does."  
  
"Wildcat?"  
  
"Roger, boyo."  
  
Tom Reilly considered his friend's remarks and started to look more intently at the man wearing a very dark, skintight costume that only exposed the lower portion of his face. The figure was walking on the top of a rooftop. He noticed that Wildcat was tall. "Well, there's two of us and one of him. I suppose we should go, then."  
  
"Right you are, Thomas," the first man agreed.  
  
Tom Reilly stepped from the doorway across the alley, shrugging deeper into his jacket against the cold. Billy Sheehan was beside him, walking quickly. They had waited across the alley from the jewelry store for two hours. A well placed challenge in the personals section of the New York Daily News had lured the hero back to London. The motive, as the captain of Reilly's unit had explained it, was simple revenge. They had tried to strike directly at Wildcat, the New York vigilante who had killed O'Malley during the takeover of Marchand's department store in London, sending three contract killers to New York. But Wildcat had defeated the would-be assassins.  
  
So Wildcat was to die, Reilly had decided, and Billy agreed. Only the IRA and a growing number of regular street criminals carried guns in a city where not even the regular police were armed.  
  
Reilly shoved his hand under his coat, for warmth and reassurance. The butt of his pistol jutted from his trouser band. Reilly stopped walking to stare into the rear of the store. They decided to go around to the front of the building. Once on the street, they crossed it. They stopped to to stare into a store widow that was jammed with Bibles in a variety of bindings, sizings and colors.  
  
Billy Sheehan rasped, "Thomas -- he's off the roof and crossin' this way."  
  
"I know that. Why the bloody hell do you think I'm staring at a bunch of Good Books in a shop window, Billy?" came the response.  
  
"Oh," Sheehan murmured.  
  
"I can see him reflected, heading up the street now."  
  
"He is that -- I can see him, too, Thomas," Billy Sheehan Whispered. "We gun him now?"  
  
Reilly gave Wildcat a sideways glance, then shrugged against the cold again. "Sure, why not? Follow my lead, Billy-boy."  
  
Reilly turned right, away from the window and started down the street. He judged the distance between him and the American who was wearing a cat costume at less than a quarter of city block. Being some kind of American hero, Wildcat wouldn't be armed, Reilly knew that. A Yank armed in London -- there was no way it could be so.  
  
Reilly started walking more quickly, seeing a slight tensing in Wildcat's shoulders. Reilly drew his gun, shouting to Billy Sheehan, "He's on to us, boy!"  
  
Reilly started to fire, pumping the trigger twice, but Wildcat was no longer on target as he rolled across the sidewalk into a doorway. Reilly could hear the high-pitched popping of Billy Sheehan's .22-caliber automatic. The target gun was firing fast. Reilly wheeled toward the doorway and tried to acquire his target. The sound of screaming came from across the street and cars and buses and trucks screeched to a halt in the roadway. Reilly triggered his pistol twice more, then twice again.  
  
Then, he heard Billy Sheehan shout, "I'm hit, Thomas!"  
  
Reilly looked at his friend and saw some type of silver star stuck deep in Sheehan's gun hand. Blood was oozing from the wound. Billy had dropped his gun.  
  
Then Reilly felt something tear its way into his chest just above his stomach, where his open coat had failed to protect him. Something was burning and searing. He was falling backward and couldn't stop himself. The gun in his right fist was still firing as his finger twitched involuntarily against the trigger.  
  
Reilly was on his back, looking along the sidewalk. Wildcat was coming out of the doorway.  
  
Wildcat grabbed the would-be killer by the lapels of his coat. Reilly started to say, "Hey, mister, a mistake, it was. It was that --"  
  
"Twitch funny and you get a face full of my fist," the American said to him in a calm voice. "Somebody call the police!" he yelled to the bystanders.  
  
Reilly closed his eyes, ashamed of his failure.  
  
***  
  
Selina Kyle focused her concentration on the run. The bleeding of her feet was something she forced herself to reject. She heard gunfire behind her and felt the slap of tree branches against her face as she ran. The shouted threats of the Nazis goaded her on. She kept running.  
  
The ground began to rise sharply ahead of her, making the strain she already felt in her legs and the burning in her lungs all the more intense. Her mouth was open wide as she gulped the chill air.  
  
She tripped and rolled several feet back down the rise. Two men came through the trees toward her, one of them blond with the silenced pistol. Selina clenched her fists and executed a perfect drop kick into the chest of the second man, holding a machine gun. He was the greater threat. His body seemed to shudder with the blow and he was pushed back through the trees and foilage and crashed against the man with the pistol.  
  
Selina was up and running, regaining her balance as she reached the top of the rise. She stole a backward glance. The two men were still trying to untangle themselves. Selina kept moving. The men opened fire on her again. She reacted quickly and dived through a course natural hedgegrow. There was no sound, only the ground at her feet churning up betrayed how close she'd come to death.  
  
The men were coming toward her. As they passed her hiding place, Selina decided to make her move. Ambushing the men from the back, she slammed her body into both of theirs at the same time. All three bodies fell to the ground with Selina on top.  
  
Quickly, she chopped the blond man across the back of his neck with the blade of her hand. The man was driven unconscious by the blow.  
  
The second man was able to get to his feet but he was staggering. Selina planted her left foot firmly into the ground and her right leg drove out into a vicious kick to the man's face. The man staggered some more. Selina pivoted on her right foot and drove another kick into the man's groin. He dropped fast, moaning. It was just a matter of kicking the man in the face, once again, to put the thug finally out of action.  
  
Selina scooped up the blond man's silenced pistol. As much as she hated to admit it, she needed additional protection.  
  
Selina Kyle ran.  
  
***  
  
She crouched in a ditch that ran beside a two-lane blacktop. Across the road was a town. Selina Kyle started to her feet but she ducked back into the ditch as a car came slowly along the road. Behind it, a stake truck nosed toward her. The car was one she recognized from the farm -- more of the Nazis. She didn't like being so popular. The cold mud in the ditch covered her legs below her hips and her feet were numb.  
  
As the truck passed, a bit of tarpaulin blew in the slipstream, and through the crack that was created she thought she saw the muzzle of a rifle. She shivered. She recognized a church nearby at the end of the town's main street. Sanctuary was her only thought as she ran across the road, jumped the ditch on the opposite side and dodged into the trees.  
  
Selina Kyle threaded her way through the dense growth. She was cold and exhausted, and the church stood ahead of her like a welcoming hand. The main entrance of the church was ahead and at a sharp angle to her right, facing the street. On her left, another car-and-truck combination traveled slowly along the highway. She crouched beside the stone steps of the church entrance, waiting until it passed. Then she climbed over the side of the steps, not bothering to cross to the front, afraid to expose herself that much to the main street.  
  
The church doors were composed of high double panels of heavy wood with brass handles. Putting the gun into her hip pocket, she reached out and pulled at the doors.  
  
Locked.  
  
She wrenched against the door handles. Nothing happened.  
  
She threw her body against the doors. Still they did not move.  
  
Hearing the sound of approaching vehicles, she looked behind her toward the main street. Another of the car-and-truck combinations slowed at the far end of the highway before entering the outskirts of the town and stopped.  
  
Men poured out, armed with submachine guns and rifles.  
  
Selina threw herself over the far side of the steps and started to run toward a two-story brick-and-stone building that stood near the church. A yellow light glowed from a side window.  
  
She prayed that it was a rectory. A priest would hide her, help her reach a phone to get help from somewhere. She pulled desperately at the door handle, but it, too, was locked.  
  
She hammered frantically on the door with the bare knuckles of her left hand. The handgun was in her right fist, aimed behind her toward the street.  
  
"Come on," she urged.  
  
She heard a flurry and a voice on the other side of the door, and then the door opened. In front of her stood a Catholic nun, elderly, chubby, moon faced and red cheeked.  
  
"I need help, please, Sister -- please," Selina pleaded.  
  
The nun was looking at the gun. "Yes, come in, child."  
  
Selina Kyle stepped through the doorway. The nun closed the door behind her, then extended her right hand. "But I'll take your revolver."  
  
Selina swallowed hard, but she handed her the gun. "It's loaded -- be careful."  
  
"My father was a policeman, so are my brothers. I know how to handle a rod," the old nun laughed, her eyes twinkling like something from a painting of Santa Claus.  
  
The nun nodded as if answering a question. "We'd better see to those feet, and you look like you could use some food, too," and the nun still holding the pistol, folded her arms around Selina's shoulders. Selina bowed her head.  
  
***  
  
The telephone was not dead, but the peculiar loud busy signal of blocked circuits was all that could be heard whenever dialing out was attempted. Selina sat in an overstuffed chair in what the nun referred to as a parlor. The cuts on her feet had been washed and bandaged, and now that her feet were warm, they throbbed with a burning pain.  
  
The nun -- Sister Mary Albert -- entered the parlor with a second pot of tea. "I've been trying the telephone, but still get that eternal busy signal. And radio station is only playing records -- no news, no commercials, nothing."  
  
"Damn," Selina muttered.  
  
The nun set down the pot of tea, then turned to face Selina. Her hands were on her hips, making her seem all that much shorter in her veil and habit and all that much fatter. "You can come into the convent with a gun. You can get me to try to help you reach the state police or the National Guard. But you can't swear, here, young lady. Is that understood?"  
  
Selina Kyle doubled forward, laughing, murmuring, "Yes, Sister, yes." She heard the hall door opening and started quickly to her feet.  
  
"You're safe here, young lady," said the nun, and as Selina watched, the old sister pulled the pistol from the side pocket of her habit.  
  
A second nun, young and pretty beneath the veil that covered her hair, entered the parlor. She stopped abruptly, inhaling loudly, stifling a scream. "Sister Albert!"  
  
"What is it, Sister Catherine?" said the elder nun.  
  
"A bunch of men have taken over the school. They say they're Nazis, and they're holding all the children. I got out through a side door. I thought I could telephone for the state police -- Chief McKeever is their prisoner, and so is Officer Rand. The Nazis took their guns. Where did --" and the younger nun looked at the revolver Sister Albert held and then at Selina Kyle.  
  
"The telephone doesn't work, and they have the radio station, too," Sister Albert said, making the little revolver disappear inside her habit.  
  
"Would you have used that gun, Sister Albert?" Sister Catherine asked, gasping.  
  
"My father taught me how to shoot the same way he taught my brothers. Both my brothers won marksmanship competitions all their lives. I was always a better shot."  
  
Selina persisted. "But would you have used it?"  
  
"I'd probably have shot a hole in the floor by somebody's feet," Sister Albert replied.  
  
"Who are you?" Sister Catherine asked Selina. "And who are these Nazis?"  
  
"The Nazis are part of a conspiracy led by a man who calls himself False- Face. He controls nearly one hundred canisters of a very dangerous VX nerve gas, and he's insane. What his men are doing here, I don't know."  
  
"But who are you?" Sister Catherine asked again.  
  
"My name is Selina Kyle. I was kidnapped on an island near Crete and brought to a farmhouse near here. I escaped , and they tried to kill me."  
  
Sister Albert spoke. "We need to give you an appropriate name."  
  
Selina looked at her, puzzled. "Why?"  
  
"I've never heard of a Sister Selina," Sister Albert said with a smile, "but a Sister Angelica -- there's one of those under every rock," and the old nun began to laugh.  
  
"They said," Sister Catherine stammered, "that they have a nerve gas weapon in a crate they brought into the school. They'll use it if we do anything to try to stop them."  
  
"You and Sister Cathernine look about the same dress size," Sister Albert said. "There are only five of us here -- you can be the sixth. A visiting sister."  
  
"Only five of you in this whole convent?" Selina didn't even consider the remark about sharing the same dress size with Sister Catherine.  
  
"Well, the nun business isn't as appealing as it used to be -- Sister Angelica. But who knows, we whip those Nazis out there, the publicity might a draw a crowd," and Sister Albert plopped into the overstuffed chair opposite Selina laughing. "I can see it now -- recruitment posters for the sisterhood. Lead a life of excitement and adventure, fight the forces of evil -- become a nun!" And she laughed again. "Got a good ring to it, huh?"  
  
Selina Kyle just shook her head and sat down.  
  
To be continued ... 


	2. Chapter 2

JSA: The Face Of Evil  
  
By Bruce Wayne  
  
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters portrayed in this story are copyright by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit by the author.  
  
CHAPTER 2  
  
False-Face sat on a chair in his London hotel room. He made his exit from Florida in the disguise of a horse-faced girl who worked at the British embassy in Washington, leaving her body with its throat slit beneath a railway bridge. He had just been informed of the unsuccessful detonation of the bomb laced with VX nerve gas at Cape Canaveral, and a cold fury flashed in his eyes. Somehow those meddling heroes of the Justice Society of America had managed to foil his plot to devastate the upcoming American space program.  
  
"You say that Batman and some others are here in London, Burns?"  
  
"Yes, Herr False-Face," replied the deputy head of False-Face's London Nazi network.  
  
False-Face considered that, tapping the arm of the chair with his finger. "And that before Batman arrived, there was some sort of assassination attempt on this Wildcat character?" he continued.  
  
"It was in all the papers here, Herr False-Face. Apparently because of Wildcat's close ties with Scotland Yard and British Intelligence. The hit men were labeled as IRA killers. Apparently Wildcat had helped the Metropolitan Police Flying Squad in a counterattack against a group of IRA personnel not long before you acquired the canisters of nerve gas, Herr False-Face. Revenge seems to have been the motive."  
  
"Excellent," False-Face said. "If the IRA was credited with this bungled attempt on Wildcat, then when our attempt is successful, perhaps they'll get credit for that, too. That suits my purpose well. Very well," and he leaned back in the chair.  
  
He was fatigued, but he had to move on immediately. At the far side of the room was the suitcase that contained his next identity. Another woman, this time a German. She would get him to the United States. Once there, a Catholic priest. And then one more disguise and it would be over, through. He wondered what it would be like to see his own face every day, day in, day out. In preparation for the events soon to come he had not lived with his own face for six years. He was always someone else, smoking his or her cigarettes or cigars, wearing his or her clothing, copying his or her voice, living his or her life to carry out his own.  
  
He abandoned his own voice, assuming the lilting Bavarian alto of the manufactured identity of the German woman. "Herr Burns, when will the assassination team be ready to see me?"  
  
***  
  
Selina Kyle looked into the mirror and saw Sister Angelica staring back at her. The white-peaked black veil all but concealed her hair, and not a bit of makeup powdered her face. She stepped away from the mirror, looking down at herself. The black habit extended to just to the top of her low-heeled black shoes. She picked up the wireframe glasses and put them on. They had belonged to a Sister who was dead now, and they slightly distorted her vision. The effect on her sight was unnerving to her, but not terribly dramatic. She looked again in the mirror.  
  
The effect on her appearance was startling.  
  
The glasses somehow obscured the greeness of her eyes and reshaped her face -- much like what her cowl did on her Catwoman costume.  
  
"Maybe we can talk you into this on a full-time basis -- you make a good- looking nun."  
  
Selina Kyle turned around, removing the glasses. It was Sister Albert. "Not my style, Sister." She smiled.  
  
"Are you ready? To go to the school, I mean?"  
  
Selina Kyle nodded. "I'm little nervous without any weapons."  
  
"I'll fix that. Come with me," and Sister Albert started down the hall toward a wooden door at the far end, adding, "There weren't enough Catholics in town here to justify a priest on a full-time basis, but with us being involved in the school we got to stay. With no priest, well, this little room means a lot more to us." She opened the door and stepped inside, flicking on a light. Selina followed her.  
  
It was a small chapel. Three stained-glass panels above the altar diffused a blue light over the three pews on each side of the center aisle. Sister Albert dipped her fingers in a font of holy water and made the Sign of the Cross.  
  
Sister Catherine entered the chapel and repeated the elder nun's gestures.  
  
"We're going to pray," Sister Albert said abruptly. "That those Nazis don't use their nerve gas, that the children don't get hurt, that no one gets killed, that the good guys win -- and we'll even pray for you. How about that?"  
  
Selina ran her tongue over her lips -- they felt odd without lipstick. She nodded, stumbling over the word, "Yes."  
  
The two sisters seemed to be waiting for her beside the font.  
  
Selina Kyle dipped her fingers into the water. It had been a long time, such a long time, she was almost embarrassed doing it.  
  
***  
  
Batman looked up and across the room at Wildcat, standing beside the bar. Colonel Sam Flagg, rubbing his hands across his rugged face, evidently very tired, sat on a stool at the end of the bar opposite from Wildcat. The CIA man was content to let the costumed heroes do the rough stuff during the course of this little raid of a London pub. Dr Mid-Nite was speaking to a potential informant. Batman listened to the questioning.  
  
Mid-Nite threw the worthless informant to the floor and looked up to his three companions. "These blasted thugs don't know anything. Let's go."  
  
While the American group was moving toward the door of the pub, Dr Mid-Nite said, "It's apparent that somehow or other, our nemisis False-Face has once again evaded the forces of justice. He is probably either in Germany or the United States, perhaps here in London again. And doubtless his disguise is impeccable and we will be hard pressed to penetrate it."  
  
"What you're saying," Wildcat began, "is that there's nothing we can do to stop False-Face until he makes his next move."  
  
"Then just react like we have been," Colonel Flagg added.  
  
Speaking to no one in particular, Batman said, "I don't have any alternatives, but that's just what we can't do. Take those dastardly villians who jumped Wildcat. Granted they were IRA and probably it was a revenge motive for the affair at Marchand's some months back when he halped nail their guy O'Malley. But it could have just as easily been someone False-Face sent. What I'm saying is that False-Face may be looking at us the same way we're looking at him. Look what he did when he tried to kill Mid-Nite, here, while he was in his civilian identity."  
  
"Quite," said a mollified Dr Mid-Nite as his face flushed.  
  
"Anyway, False-Face isn't above knocking off the competition," Batman continued. "And if we keep waiting for him, he's going to come up with an operation we can't storm our way into and stop. I figure he's going to go for the big one this time. He's proved he will set off a bomb laced with the VX nerve gas twice and that he's capable of getting a device into position anywhere he wants it. He's netted one detonation out of it. Thanks to Green Lantern, it went off harmlessly in space. So far, we've only recovered one of the one hundred stolen VX nerve gas canisters. But I don't think that makes us even. He's way ahead of the game because he knows his next move and we don't. He probably knows our next move almost as soon as we determine what it is. The whole deal on that island off Crete was to draw our attention, lull us into assuming we'd stopped his plans temporarily. And he's got Catwoman, probably as an ace against me if he needs it. We've got to find Catwoman. She's the key. If we find her, we've got a pipeline into at least part of his operation. I don't care how we nail False-Face -- I just want to nail his ass to the wall and use it for a damn dartboard with him still wearing it."  
  
He felt better for saying it all, but Batman really wasn't sure if he'd said anything besides the obvious. He wondered whether his concern for Catwoman overshadowed his reason.  
  
Dr Mid-Nite spoke after a long pause. "Even as we talk, Diana is putting together a dossier on False-Face of every intelligence agency to which we have access. I have contacted my sources, asking them to analyze the data as it is available, to construct a composite profile -- both physical and psychological -- containing every known detail on False-Face. We are also gathering data on all known associates of False-Face, all known Nazi sympathizers and other pro-Nazi, right-wing elements."  
  
"It's going to be an awful big dossier," Flagg offered.  
  
"Yes," Dr Mid-Nite allowed. "But the fact remains, it is our most vital tool against False-Face. Hourman is still recovering in a hospital bed in Iraklion. He hopes to be back in the U.S. soon. We are also back-checking those spurious identities that we know of -- his disguise as the German air hostess Johanna, for example -- looking for any factual basis there might be for such identities. I doubt he attended a training school for airline hostesses, so it is either the identity of a woman he murdered and replaced, or some other ruse was used -- perhaps an identity made of whole cloth but substantiated by fraudulent records. There may be some clues to his real appearance in this regard."  
  
"Short-lived identities like the Gateway City policeman he posed as when they tried the detonation there," Batman injected, "are probably dead ends."  
  
"Wouldn't it be marvelous if people had the brains to realize that Hitler was a whacko and didn't want to strut around and pretend to be Nazis -- geez. What a bunch of losers," Wildcat observed.  
  
Batman shrugged. "Probably a lot of people were disappointed when Genghis Khan died -- what can I say?"  
  
"So far," Colonel Flagg noted thoughtfully, "it appears we have no bizzare rumblings, nothing to indicate False-Face has commenced an operation."  
  
"It's clear to me," Batman began, "that all of this is part of one operation, just various phases, all building up to one thing. And if I'm right and False-Face's achieved his purpose of demonstrating he'll use the weapons, then he's ready for the final stage. It could be anything, but it has to be some form of blackmail. He's not bent on suicide. The way he fights -- using his wits to stay alive and always covering his ass with an escape route -- proves that. He doesn't want to turn the earth into an uninhabitable place. He wants to use the VX in order to get his way, and he wants the world to know that he will use the gas if he doesn't."  
  
"But what could his goal be, Batman?" asked Dr Mid-Nite. "You know him best."  
  
Batman looked at the Master of Darkness. "False-Face will let us know. Bank on it."  
  
***  
  
The man known only as the The Wolf studied his reflection in the rearview mirror of the Mercedes automobile. A fine face, he thought, strong chin, patrician nose, blue eyes that had set many a heart racing. His close- cropped blond hair was so light that the premature gray that salted it hardly showed at all. He adjusted the knot of the black silk tie he wore.  
  
Through the Mercedes windshield he could watch the outside of the pub and watch the positions of his other men. It was only a matter of time.  
  
He glanced at the khaki raincoat beside him on the front passenger seat. Beneath it was the weapon with which he intended to assassinate Batman, just as False-Face's people had instructed and paid him to do.  
  
He flicked back the raincoat for an instant. The prod was precocked, with the custom-fabricated, three-bladed hunting bolt in the flyway. A flick of the safety to the off position and a gentle touch of the trigger was all that would be required. At a range of twenty-five yards, the bolt would penetrate Batman's neck from the left side and probably sever the spinal column and rupture the carotid artery on the right.  
  
No noise, no fuss.  
  
The Wolf liked that.  
  
There was always the chance of a miss, of course. A really strong and sudden gust of wind or a rough previous evening giving one a shaky hand or jerky trigger finger. But it was a very calm night, with a light mist falling, so light as to be hardly noticeable, and he'd had a lovely relaxing evening the night before and had not overindulged -- in anything.  
  
Several clandestine services used the crossbow. The Wolf mentally ticked off the times he used it -- In West Berlin twice, in Paris once, in Naples once, in Monaco once, in Tel Aviv twice.  
  
He was satisfied. He waited. The American crimefighter Batman would come.  
  
In the event things did go sour, underneath his tweed sport coat was a ..22- caliber semiautomatic with a silencer.  
  
Violence, to be truly effective, The Wolf had always thought, should be subtle and understated.  
  
He waited.  
  
***  
  
Dr Mid-Nite started through the double glass doors, leading out of the London pub.  
  
Colonel Flagg followed. "Looks like more of that damn drizzle," he observed.  
  
Batman shrugged as he came out next. It was colder than it had been, and the night sky was weeping.  
  
Dr Mid-Nite adjusted the special goggles that he wore over his eyes. His red tunic was cloaked by a long green cape. "Not a bad evening."  
  
Batman just looked at him. It was evident that a man who couldn't see idea of "not a bad evening" and anyone else's idea of the same night were totally different.  
  
"That spook guy in your group said that he would transport us back to the United States very early tomorrow?" Colonel Flagg asked, huddled in his typical spy trench coat.  
  
"Don't let him hear you calling him that, Colonel," Wildcat said from behind. "The Spectre doesn't appreciate being called 'Spooky.'"  
  
"Indeed," Batman said. "But because of his great powers, he was able to transport us and the Batmobile, here, to London, in the blink of an eye."  
  
"When this is all over, I'm going to write one hell of a report for the CIA," Flagg assured Batman.  
  
Wildcat looked at Flagg and said, "Like they'll believe you."  
  
The group was headed for another pub that was said to be frequented by Nazi sympathizers in London.  
  
Across the street, Batman noticed a new Mercedes. It was a down-sized four- door that topped 115 miles per hour. It would look nice in the garage in Wayne Manor, he thought.  
  
Batman reached out his left hand and said, "What do you think of that, Wildcat?"  
  
"What? The Mercedes?"  
  
"Yes, what do you think of it? Not that gray color but maybe in black?"  
  
He watched Wildcat's eyes as the man appraised the car. "Why not one of the little sportsters? But I think you're right, it would look better in black."  
  
"Yeah, but I bet Batman thinks everything looks better in black," Flagg laughed.  
  
Batman's lip twitched. "Watch it, Colonel, or I might start liking you. Come on, we're wet already -- let's take a look at the car." The Caped Crusader wanted to do anything that would get his mind away from the plight of Catwoman -- not knowing the exact nature of her situation, he let his imagination play games that he didn't like.  
  
"It's raining -- or doesn't anybody care?" Wildcat asked. Batman shot him a scowl and started across the street. Dr Mid-Nite was beside him and Flagg fell into step.  
  
There had appeared to be no one in the car from across the street. And through the increasing heavy rain, Batman couldn't even see through the dark glass of the broad flat windshield.  
  
Wildcat was saying something and Batman turned around. "I didn't catch what you said."  
  
"I think there's somebody in the car, Batman. I saw something moving. This is embarrassing."  
  
Dr Mid-Nite looked at the Mercedes more closely. He hadn't been paying any attention to the interior. He was about five yards from where he stood on the curb opposite the pub.  
  
The rain was coming down pretty hard. Mid-Nite started toward the car. "I don't see -- Holy shit!"  
  
Dr Mid-Nite threw himself left away from the car. Batman threw himself toward the right, across the sidewalk toward a shop window. "Look out!" he shouted.  
  
He could see the window being cranked down, then a twang and a whoosh. A plate-glass window shattered above his head. He was soaked now, rolling out of a puddle of standing water.  
  
The Mercedes was already in motion, screeching away from the curb.  
  
Sudden bursts of gunfire hammered toward Batman from the opposite side of the street. As the Dark Knight from Gotham City rolled and then pushed himself up, his eyes took in the shattered store window and the mannequin of a woman in an expensively tailored pink suit. The mannequin was pinned to a round pillar in the interior side of the window, a crossbow bolt through the neck. He swallowed hard.  
  
Wildcat was on the move. Dr Mid-Nite reached to his utility belt and pulled out one of his patented Blackout Bombs. Colonel Flagg held a gleaming snub- nosed revolver in his right fist and was running for cover.  
  
There were more sounds of glass exploding. Across the street a figure broke and ran -- a man wearing a knit cap and a blue rain jacket and carrying a pistol with a long slide. The adversary turned and fired. The gun made no noticeable sound. Wildcat whipped a Shuriken fighting star at the man, and the knit cap spun into the air in pain with the weapon stuck firmly in his right forearm.  
  
Wildcat was crouched behind an off-white Volvo. He saw two men near the corner of the pub on the far side of the street.  
  
One of the men made a run for it, firing a silenced pistol as he went. Wildcat began running toward them in a zig-zag pattern in an effort to keep from being shot. The gunman's weapon boomed once, then once again, and he started to become frustrated by his inability to hit the moving target that was coming closer and closer with each passing second.  
  
Then, suddenly, everything went black. The gunman could no longer see. This was courtesy of Dr Mid-Nite's Blackout Bomb. A moment later, Wildcat hammered his body into the would-be assassin and slammed him through a plate-glass window.  
  
The second man, also unable to see, but who certainly heard the breaking glass, raised a small submachine gun, "Get down, Wildcat!" Dr Mid-Nite shouted.  
  
Dr Mid-Nite's only real power was the ability to see in the dark. He could clearly see the machine gunner and the man's body reeled from the punch from the Master of Darkness. Then his knees buckled, and the sub gun danced bullets off the pavement at his feet as he sagged like a heap of rags.  
  
Batman ran to join Flagg at the far end of the street, where the CIA officer had run another gunner to earth. He wheeled as he heard the whine of an accelerating motor behind him. The gray Mercedes roared toward him, jumping the curb. The Masked Manhunter realized in an instant that the car had boxed him in. "Batman!" It was Wildcat shouting. The car raced forward.  
  
In the split second before life became death, Batman hurtled his body toward the window of a leather-goods shop behind him, hunching his shoulders, trying to tuck-roll in midair. His arms shielded his face and head as the glass shattered around him.  
  
The Mercedes glanced off the front of the shop and careered wildly over the curve and back into the street. The wheels spun madly on the wet pavement as the car picked up speed and slipped into the night.  
  
As Batman pulled himself up, shards of razor-edged glass fell from his cape and crunched under his boots.  
  
Dr Mid-Nite was running up to him. "Batman," he shouted, "you're --"  
  
"I'm all right," Batman said. "That dastardly villian, I'll thrash him brutally."  
  
"Hey, Batman!" It was Wildcat, and the Gotham Avenger stepped out of the display window, gingerly brushing the glass off his costume. "Let's chase him in the Batmobile!"  
  
Batman felt his jaw set. The Mercedes hadn't had time to get too far ahead. "Let's go, Wildcat!" and Batman, glass still falling from his costume, water streaming down his face, ran toward the Batmobile.  
  
***  
  
Batman jumped into the eleven-year-old Batmobile. Wildcat got into the passenger seat. Pushing a button, the Caped Crusader started the motor and put the vehicle in drive.  
  
A white police car with a blue flasher was coming up fast behind him, and Batman layed out a screech of rubber as he accelerated. Turning several blocks ahead he could see a gray Mercedes -- he hoped it was the same one.  
  
Upshifting into third gear, the speedometer read nearly fifty as he cut through a red light.  
  
Batman whipped the wheel hard to the left, barely avoiding a double-decker bus. He realized he was driving on the wrong side of the street. "This is England, remember!" Wildcat shouted.  
  
Batman shrugged, double-clutching to downshift, taking the same right the Mercedes had taken. He was leaving Marylebone High Street and a sign read Hammersmith Flyover.  
  
"What the hell's a 'flyover,' anyway?" Wildcat shouted.  
  
"Like an expressway. They just talk funny over here. Hang on." Batman upshifted through third and into fourth, cutting hard right into what he hoped was the fast lane. The Mercedes was nowhere in sight.  
  
"He could have gotten off at one of those exits," Wildcat said, his hands gripping the dash.  
  
"What would you do, Wildcat, if you had just botched an assassination?"  
  
"How the hell should I know," Wildcat shouted. The windshield wipers thwacked at high speed, trying to clear the sheets of falling rain. "I never tried to assassinate anybody."  
  
"You'd get out of town as fast as you could. Read that sign --"  
  
Wildcat read out the sign for Chadwick, and Batman noted they were heading into the West Country. The speedometer needle hovered around one hundred as the Dark Knight streaked his way through the slower-moving traffic around him.  
  
"You know, Batman, if you ever have to stop this thing suddenly, we're splat all over the road," said Wildcat.  
  
Batman only nodded as he dodged a medium-sized truck. He double clutched and downshifted, and the needle redlined on the tachometer as he threaded the space between two more trucks. Ahead of them, he could see the Mercedes.  
  
"Whoever the hell that guy is who tried killing us just never planned on us walking across the street to look at his pretty car," Batman reflected.  
  
"I'll remember that if I ever want to assassinate somebody," Wildcat laughed. "Always use a boring-looking car."  
  
The speedometer bounced at a 105, and the Batmobile was hydroplaning. If Batman tried lowering his speed before they hit drier pavement, he'd lose control of the car. His hands were gripping the steering wheel tightly.  
  
The Mercedes was growing ahead of them. "He hasn't made us yet," Wildcat shouted  
  
"He's going to, real quick," Batman shot back.  
  
Batman slowed his speed to seventy, matching the Mercedes, and fell into position just to its right and half a car length back.  
  
"Doesn't this car of yours have weapons like rockets and laser beams or something?" Wildcat asked. "I say we fire a broadside across his bow."  
  
"I don't think that's the right terminology, Wildcat," said Batman.  
  
"Hell -- can we shoot the fuckin' car then, okay? yelled Wildcat. "You have no sense of adventure, Batman."  
  
Rain washed onto the large cockpit window of the Batmobile. Batman pulled behind the Mercedes. He activated the Bat-Laser Beam.  
  
"Can't use rockets on this highway," Batman explained. "If I miss, the rocket might hit an innocent driver's vehicle."  
  
The Masked Manhunter tried to get a fix on the Mercedes ahead. "I can't shoot -- I can't even see in this crap," he muttered.  
  
He pressed the button on the dash, and a tongue of orange flame flashed into the rain. The Mercedes swerved, then accelerated.  
  
"I don't think we hit him in a spot to make him stop," Wildcat shouted.  
  
Batman downshifted to build RPMs and then slammed the protesting gearbox back into fourth and jammed the pedal to the floor.  
  
As they closed in on the Mercedes again, the driver's window cranked down, and the barrel of a silenced pistol swung into their direction.  
  
"Watch it -- he's got a gun," Wildcat snapped.  
  
"The Batmobile is bulletproof," Batman replied as he was double-clutching to downshift. The motor roared.  
  
Batman kept the pedal to the floor, working the steering wheel in narrow arcs to enhance traction. The speedometer danced to 110.  
  
Batman gritted his teeth and gripped the steering wheel even tighter, willing the car forward. This was the lead they had hoped for, the lead to False-Face. This one wasn't from the IRA -- there was too much subtlety, too big a budget.  
  
It was False-Face and the Nazis.  
  
And the lead to False-Face meant hope of finding the remaining ninety-eight canisters of VX nerve gas. But more important to Batman, it increased the chance of finding Catwoman.  
  
The Mercedes was less than a city-block's distance ahead, and the Batmobile was gaining.  
  
"When I get even with him, I'm going to ram him off the side of the road. I'm ramming him with your side of the Batmobile. And when we get out to grab him -- don't kill him," he shouted to Wildcat.  
  
"He's gonna be trying to kill us, Batman."  
  
"He's the only lead we've got back to False-Face."  
  
Batman glanced once at Wildcat. The crimefighter from New York City nodded. "All right, I'll try not to hurt him too badly."  
  
Batman nodded. "Get ready!"  
  
Batman pulled even with the Mercedes and cut the Batmobile's steering wheel hard right, broadsiding the gray car. Metal from the Mercedes screamed and buckled from the impact from the armored Batmobile. The Gotham Goliath felt his bones jar as vibrations from the impact came through the steering wheel. There was no sound from Wildcat. The silenced pistol flashed in the assassin's hand, and Batman rammed the Mercedes again. The pistol fell from the window of the Mercedes as metal wrenched against metal and the driver's side door caved in. The Mercedes swerved hard right and veered onto the shoulder of the road.  
  
Wildcat looked and saw that the windshield of the Mercedes had shattered into thousands of tiny glittering fragments. The German car careered wildly into the guard rail, punching through it, and skidded onto the muddy ground beyond. Batman wrenched at the Batmobile's steering wheel. "Hold on, Wildcat!" he yelled as the car smashed throught he guard rail and lurched violently to a stop in the mud and a few yards from the enemy car.  
  
The driver's door of the Mercedes fell away, and a man climbed out, carrying a crossbow in his hands, the prod cocked. The crossbow quivered for an instant, and Wildcat shouted as he emerged from the Batmobile, "That son of a bitch missed my head by --"  
  
Batman was out the Batmobile when it stopped and cut off his fellow crimefighter's voice to yell at their adversary, "Surrender!" he yelled as rain pelted his face.  
  
Wildcat was on top of his foe in an instant, backhanding the man hard with his left fist. The assassin sprawled against the hood of the Mercedes. "Make it quick, Wildcat," yelled Batman, "We've got police coming up fast."  
  
"Right," Wildcat growled, and he quickly stripped his adversary of two knives.  
  
"He's clean now."  
  
"Now pick him up by his ears, Wildcat, and shake the villian until his ears rip off or he tells us where False-Face is."  
  
"Hey, I like that -- yeah," and Wildcat laughed, the screams of the assassin cutting off the sound of laughter as Wildcat raised the man into the air by his earlobes.  
  
"Where's False-Face?" Wildcat demanded. He could feel the skin of the man's ears beginning to tear. His enemy screamed with the pain.  
  
"Where's False-Face?!" Wildcat repeated.  
  
"All -- all right -- my ears --"  
  
Wildcat threw the man down into the mud like a piece of garbage.  
  
Batman walked over to his would-be assassin lying on the ground. The man was holding his ears, and tears streamed from eyes. "Answer my questions now, or Wildcat will rip your tongue out by the roots. Don't talk to us and you'll never talk again. Now what's your name?"  
  
"The Wolf."  
  
"Did False-Face hire you?"  
  
"Yes, False-Face."  
  
"Where is he?" demanded Batman.  
  
"He was leaving for America. We met in a pub -- he left before I did."  
  
"Where in America?"  
  
"He didn't say -- honestly."  
  
Batman watched as the man's eyes flicked from Batman's face to Wildcat. "What did he look like?" Batman asked.  
  
The man in the mud started to laugh, still holding his ears.  
  
"What did he look like," Batman shouted, "or I let Wildcat rip you apart!"  
  
"A brunette," The Wolf shrugged. "A beautiful brunette with green eyes and a figure that would drive a man insane if it were real."  
  
Batman stepped back from The Wolf.  
  
Wildcat whispered, "Batman -- if it means searching every woman who tries to leave London, I want you to know you can count on me -- I'll work at it day and night."  
  
To be continued ... 


	3. Chapter 3

JSA: The Face Of Evil  
  
By Bruce Wayne  
  
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters portrayed in this story are copyright by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit by the author.  
  
CHAPTER 3  
  
The Boomer smoked a cigarette and listened as False-Face whistled from the bathroom through the open doorway. The whistling stopped, and False-Face in his own voice -- or at least Boomer assumed it was False-Face's own voice because he used it each time he slipped out of one identity before fully assuming another -- asked, "You have made all the preparations?"  
  
"Yes, F.F. I have done all that you asked me to do."  
  
"Faithful Boomer. When the new order soon comes, you, my friend, shall be at its pinnacle."  
  
"I wish only to serve the true cause, F.F. -- and to serve you." The Boomer watched the smoke rising from his cigarette. He knew little about False- Face. He had worked with him for years, had taught him the craft of explosives, of detonators and timers, and chemical weapons. "You can always make something blow up," he liked to say. "The hard part is not to be near it when it does." Three years had passed before Boomer realized the face he had seen week in, week out and had accepted as False-Face's had been a contrived face, the hair and eye color false. Thus why the man had been called "False-Face."  
  
All he knew that was real about False-Face was that he had been born in Germany and there was a peculiar scar in the shape of a lightning bolt on the left side of his neck below the ear. It was usually covered or obscured with makeup.  
  
The Boomer believed that there was no more a perfect Nazi than False-Face and never could be.  
  
Boomer dropped his cigarette. Standing before him was a sandy-haired Catholic priest. When it came, the voice of the smiling, blue-eyed priest was totally different from any The Boomer had ever heard False-Face use. But each new voice was always different. "I'm Father Mahoney. Could you please tell me where I'd find the White House, maybe catch a glimpse of the President as he walks by? Back in Dublin all the little ones in First Communion class are after me getting himself's autograph!" And the priest laughed.  
  
"F.F.," exclaimed Boomer. "You are --"  
  
It was False-Face's own voice again, not the Irish Catholic priest on holiday. "Have the bomb threats been continued as I instructed?"  
  
"Yes, False-Face, they have."  
  
"And the final security changes have been made, all the equipment put in place?"  
  
The Boomer nodded, marvelling at False-Face's ability to slip in and out of character.  
  
"And the surveillance of Under Secretary of Agriculture Horn goes according to plan?"  
  
"Yes. Yes, it does, F.F." Boomer knew the meaning of the word "awe" -- it inspired him now.  
  
"I shall personally join the surveillance team, Boomer," False-Face said. And the voice of the good-hearted priest from Dublin added, "After a wee nip of that foul-tasting gin there," and he started across the living room toward the bar.  
  
***  
  
Nazis liked mass meetings. Of this Selina Kyle -- Sister Mary Angelica -- was sure. She sat with the other nuns in the grammer-school lunchroom, listening as the blond-haired man she had clashed with earlier in the woods stood on the small stage and spoke. "Very soon, the meaning of what has transpired here shall be apparent to you all. And those of you with a sense of history will one day be proud to have been part of this, however seemingly insignifcant. You have my pledge, both as a duly authorized representative of the National Socialist Party and personally, that no harm shall befall any of the children."  
  
The police chief, his holster empty, stood up. "Just what do you people want with us? This town couldn't have anything you value at all."  
  
The Nazi on the podium answered, "Ah, but it will, Chief, it will -- and very soon."  
  
A woman stood up, and though Selina couldn't see her face, the woman was obviously crying, from the sound of her voice. "Please let me see our little girl, please!" she pleaded. As the distraught mother ran toward the podium, rifles held by the Nazis sprinkled about the lunchroom bristled toward her. But the woman only fell to her knees at the foot of the small stage, her hands folded up toward the Nazi, as if in prayer. "Please!"  
  
A man moved cautiously forward, bending down to the woman. He put his arms around her and slowly raised her to her feet. The woman -- Selina guessed it was his wife -- collapsed against him, sobbing as he took her back to sit down.  
  
"There is one more matter," the Nazi continued. "There is a woman named Selina Kyle whom we suspect is hiding somewhere in the town. She poses some minor threat to our plans and therefore a major threat to the welfare of the children." The Nazi's left arm was in a sling and his left shoulder appeared swollen. Selina Kyle guessed it was bandages and packing. She'd hit him pretty good when he pursued her from the farmhouse. She looked at him over the top of her wire-rimmed glasses. "This woman must be turned over to us. Now," he ordered.  
  
Chief McKeever stood up again. Selina Kyle admired the man's courage. "We ain't got no Selina what's her name. All the folks in this town is folks what belongs to this town, 'cept maybe them six fellas over at the motel -- and they're all men, anyway!"  
  
"So, there is no strange woman in this town," redirected the Nazi. "I suggest to you, Chief, look very carefully for if you lie to us or we even think that you lie, one of the children will be shot. Immediately."  
  
Selina Kyle squirmed in her folding chair. She told herself it was the high collar of the nun's habit she wore that made her feel suddenly warm. She felt Sister Mary Albert's left hand, and she looked down to her own lap. Sister Mary Albert clutched black rosary beads and had her fingers crossed.  
  
Sister Angelica glanced up. The police chief was looking back from the front of the lunchroom, looking at faces. And then their eyes met. He knew she didn't belong here, she could read it in his face, but then his eyes moved away.  
  
After what seemed an eternity, McKeever turned his back to the townspeople, his voice firm, clear. "I told you you before, if there's some Selina woman hiding here, well, she ain't at this meeting. If I find her, I'll lock her up in my jail. You ain't killing no woman with me standing by watching. And that's a clear fact."  
  
The Nazi said nothing for a moment. His eyes were cold as he addressed the assembled townspeople in a crisp and demanding voice. "If there is the slightest disruption to our plans, the nerve gas inside the school will be used. The children and everyone else in this town will die a very unpleasant death.."  
  
There were screams, gasps, a shouted threat from someone in the crowd. Chief McKeever turned and raised both hands to silence the crowd, shouting, "Easy, now. Easy," and then turned to face the Nazi standing high above him on the stage. "You use that nerve gas, you kill yourselves, too -- you know that."  
  
"We are men of a purpose," the slightly German-accented voice returned. "And we will die for our beliefs, just as you would," and the Nazi walked offstage.  
  
Selina Kyle heard Sister Mary Albert whisper hoarsely, "See, the rosary works every time, and you never have to reload it with anything but a prayer."  
  
Selina Kyle just looked at the woman -- and at the rosary.  
  
***  
  
As Harry Fox stepped down into the light mist and started toward the base of the passenger-egress steps, his eyes swept the crowd. He liked it when it rained. There were less people out for him to watch over.  
  
Harry Fox had been a U.S. Secret Service advance man for seven years and never liked the job. With Markowski down with the flu, he'd been pulled from the detail and reassigned as one of the peripheral guards for the President of the United States.  
  
His job was stand at the base of the steps and scan the crowd of politicians, local officials, police and onlookers who gathered on the wet tarmac. His partner Rollins was to do the same. The bad thing about it raining was that you really couldn't wear sunglasses without attracting attention, and so when you searched the crowd, someone could watch your eyes. Fox locked onto a man with a beard who was edging forward in the crowd. He felt himself tense. He caught Rollins's eye, then started deeper into the crowd to cut the man out.  
  
But two Chicago policemen moved quickly to flank the bearded man and shoulder him back.  
  
Fox nodded to the cops and kept looking.  
  
The young President stepped out into the rain, bareheaded under the umbrella held by a detail man behind him. He smiled, waved and started down the steps from the new Air Force One -- the first jetliner to carry that code name. A band was playing "Hail To The Chief." Fox didn't like the song. He wished they'd play "God Bless America," but the bands always played "Hail To The Chief." The First Lady hadn't made the trip. It was just a political hop into Chicago, then a motorcade through Illinois to Springfield to meet with the Illinois governor. Then a helicopter to St Louis, a political stop there and Air Force One back to Washington.  
  
Fox's eyes drifted past the President and back to the crowd. The rain was heavier now, but the weather reports indicated it would stop well before the motorcade left in the morning.  
  
As the presidential party moved away from the plane, he fell in step with Rollins, tailing the President. By the time Air Force One left St Louis, Markowski would be back on duty, and once they hit Washington, unless somebody else got the flu, he'd be back as an advance man.  
  
He was a good advance man, even if he disliked the job intensely, checking everything just the way he should check everything. Sometimes he woke up at night trying to remember if he'd checked every rooftop access, every abandoned office or store front. He knew some people referred to him as "Paranoid" Fox.  
  
Harry Fox hated being an advance man, but like everyone told him, he was the best there was at it.  
  
***  
  
"Fox usually does that -- you do it, Pete," Matt Arnold said.  
  
Pete Loftus looked at Arnold and got out of the car. They had been driving through the small Illinois town of Reddington, without making their presence known, for more than an hour, up and down every street. They had gone through the public library, even visited the local gun shop. Loftus stepped out of the car and onto the sidewalk. He started toward the police department, took two steps and turned back, saying to Matt Arnold, "You remember that gun shop?"  
  
"Yeah, what about it?" Arnold asked.  
  
"Well, I remember the guy had a couple of M-1's in there, right?"  
  
"Yeah. So?"  
  
"He didn't have a single round of ammunition in the whole shop."  
  
"Maybe he had it packed out back of the shop in the storeroom, or something," said Arnold.  
  
"That doesn't make any sense, though. And there was something else, but I just can't put my finger on it."  
  
"Look, do you want me to go in there and see the police chief?" asked Arnold.  
  
"No, I'll see him," replied Loftus. "Fox usually sees the police chief, and I'm filling in for Fox, so I'll go see the police chief, already."  
  
Pete Loftus turned around and started walking. Ahead of him was a small white building that looked as if it had once been a gas station. The fact that there was a gas pump on the side made the appearance all the more compelling, he thought. Two squad cars were parked out front, and he recognized one from having seen it earlier, when they had left the gun shop. That still bothered him. With the President making the unadvertised motorcade, it had been impossible to do all the advance work they normally would have done -- it would have generated publicity the President and his staff hadn't wanted.  
  
He stepped up to the glass front door of the police station, turned the knob and walked inside.  
  
An extremely heavy-set man sat at the dispatch radio. Loftus guessed he was the desk sergeant. "Sergeant?" he asked.  
  
"Just a second, fella," the man growled, picking up the radio's microphone. "Charlie, that's a ten-four on that. Secretary of State's coming up with registration in a little bit. Hang in there -- out."  
  
The sergeant looked up, saying, "Now what can I do for you, young fella?"  
  
Loftus flashed his badge. "I'm Pete Loftus, Special Agent, United States Secret Service. I need to see your chief right away, and I need you not to say you've seen me."  
  
"Hey, mum's the word, Agent --"  
  
"Loftus," and Pete Loftus extended his right hand.  
  
The sergeant's grip was firm, but his palm was sweaty. Loftus shook off the suspicion that had been gnawing at him about the gun shop. Taking old "Paranoid" Fox's job this trip was getting to him.  
  
The sergeant walked around the desk and knocked on a glass door. "Chief, there's a fella here to see ya -- kind of special," and the sergeant looked back at Loftus and grinned.  
  
Loftus came around the side of the counter and waited, still holding his badge.  
  
The chief was a tall man, slightly younger than Loftus had expected. But he'd met enough police chiefs over the years to know they didn't fit a mold.  
  
"I'm Rod McKeever," the man said. His voice sounded slightly strained. There were bandages under the police chief's shirt, covering the left shoulder, and the left arm was in a sling. "Got myself in a little scrap. Some crazy drunk -- you know how that is," he said.  
  
Pete Loftus answered, "Yeah, I was a cop for twelve years before I joined the Secret Service," and he handed over his ID case. "The President of the United States will be passing through here tomorrow around lunchtime. He'll stop for ten minutes and then move on. We're here to make sure everything goes okay."  
  
The man who identified himself as Rod McKeever only smiled. "I can tell you right now, sir, everything's going to go just like it was planned." And Loftus watched him as the police chief kept smiling.  
  
***  
  
"When do we stop for lunch? It must be getting about that time, surely. I wonder if they have any good clam chowder, here?"  
  
"I doubt it, sir. We'll be visiting the town of Reddington at exactly five minutes to noon, Mr President, and our advance team indicates some of the school children will be presenting you with an award in the town square. We'll be on the road again by five minutes after twelve. By twelve-thirty you'll be pulling up at the Corrigan Farm, where the governor and his party will be waiting. There'll be an informal lunch, and by two you and the governor will motorcade again toward Springfield."  
  
"Wonderful. So we eat at twelve-thirty. That was all I'd ask, Kenny," and the young President flashed his famous grin.  
  
Kenny O'Brien breathed a loud sigh. "I'm sorry, Mr President. I guess I just get carried away with the details."  
  
"Kenny, you do a good job," the President said with a heavy New England accent. "You're a good road man. Relax and light one of those cigars."  
  
The President smiled and then he looked back to the open binder on his lap.  
  
The President was a hell of a good guy, O'Brien thought. Automatically O'Brien checked his watch -- it read eight minutes before twelve.  
  
The limousine reduced speed, and Kenny O'Brien leaned forward, tapping the driver on the shoulder. "Why are we slowing?" he asked.  
  
"A police car is approaching -- from Reddington, I guess. Fox and Rollins will coordinate."  
  
O'Brien nodded into the rearview mirror, then turned to look at the President. "The Reddington police are coming to meet us, apparently, Mr President."  
  
"I heard, Kenny. When we stop in town, I'd like to meet the officer in charge."  
  
"Yes, sir, I'll make a note of that."  
  
The limousine had come to a full stop now, and O'Brien didn't like that. Then he laughed to himself. He'd been listening to "Paranoid" Fox too much ...  
  
***  
  
It was a nice little town, as little towns go, O'Brien thought as he smiled at the mayor and the injured police chief. There was something slightly odd about the way the chief spoke, but O'Brien shrugged it off and watched as the President shook hands all around.  
  
A Catholic nun, rather pretty beneath the veil and glasses, was standing to one side with a half-dozen school children. She urged one of the children forward, and a little girl wearing a pink dress and a pink ribbon in her blond hair stepped toward the President. She carried a rolled piece of heavy paper that looked like a scroll, tied with three ribbons of red, white and blue.  
  
There was a worried look on the nun's face, but O'Brien attributed it to concern that the little girl wouldn't screw things up.  
  
"Mr President," and the little girl curtsied. "On behalf of all the children of Reddington, I --"  
  
The nun prompted her, "Present, Elizabeth, present."  
  
"On behalf of the children in Reddington, I present you with this scroll."  
  
The President bent down to the little girl, accepting the scroll and smiling, impulsively pushing his hair back in place as the wind blew. There was no press coverage because of the way in which the motorcade had been arranged. No popping flashbulbs to mar the moment. O'Brien liked the man he worked for.  
  
"Thank you, darling," the President told the little girl. He stood to his full height, his brown hair was caught in another gust of wind. "Should I read the scroll?"  
  
The nun, her face suddenly pale, almost whispered, "You are supposed to read it, Mr President."  
  
"Well, I always to do what I'm supposed to do," and the President smiled again. He undid the scroll's ribbons and began to read out loud: "All the remaining children of the town of Reddington are being held prisoner in the grammer school. With them are armed men and a --" The President put down the scroll as the Secret Service personnel shoved him toward the limousine.  
  
The police chief stepped forward, his right arm crossing the little girl's shoulders beneath her neck. "Mr President," he shouted, "read the rest of the scroll or the little girl will die."  
  
O'Brien felt his nerves tingle.  
  
The President pushed aside one of his Secret Service bodyguards and stared at the police chief. "Your voice is different, Chief," he began.  
  
"I am not the chief. Read the scroll, Mr President."  
  
One of the Secret Service men started for the bogus policeman, but the President restrained him. He raised the scroll, reading aloud again: "With them are armed men and a bomb laced with VX nerve gas that if detonated will kill every living being in the town of Reddington, Illinois, if you do not order your guards to lay down their weapons and you yourself surrender to the National Socialist personnel surrounding you."  
  
The President let the scroll fall from his hands. The wind caught it and blew it across the square. O'Brien was struck, for an instant by the thought that might become one of the most important documents in American history and it was vanishing like a discarded sheet of newspaper.  
  
"If you use that VX nerve gas, sir," the President said evenly, clearly, deliberately, "you and all your men will die, as well. And so will I. And a dead President might not be of tremendous use to your plan, whatever it is."  
  
"Mr President," came the deliberate answer. "Whether you live or die is immaterial to our plans. We prefer you to survive, as we ourselves would prefer to survive. The choice is yours, the choice of life for all of the innocent people of this town."  
  
The guns of the Secret Service personnel were trained on the man.  
  
"How am I to know you just aren't bluffing, mister?" said the President.  
  
The man was quick to answer. "One hundred canisters of VX nerve gas were stolen by our leader, False-Face. One canister was nearly used in Gateway City. A second was detonated in space above Cape Caneveral. If you do not surrender within approximately two minutes, a bomb will be detonated that will spread the nerve gas throughout the town and countryside." And he released the little girl from his grasp.  
  
The President looked at the man who issued the ultimatum. "Very well, sir," he said, and turned to the Secret Service personnel. "Lay down your guns, gentlemen."  
  
To be continued ... 


	4. Chapter 4

JSA: The Face Of Evil  
  
By Bruce Wayne  
  
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters portrayed in this story are copyright by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit by the author.  
  
CHAPTER 4  
  
Colonel Sam Flagg stood amid the din of New York's bustling Idlewood Airport and read aloud from a note that had just been handed to him by a U.S. Air Force lieutenant. Beside him, Batman could feel the tension in the government officer's voice. The near miss in London had put a strain on everyone. After The Spectre had transported the group back to New York, the heroes and Flagg were going to go back to their respective headquarters via commercial flight and the Batplane. Wildcat and Dr Mid-Nite made their homes in New York.  
  
"At exactly noon today central daylight time, a group of armed Nazis holding the entire town of Reddington, Illinois, hostage with a canister of VX nerve gas forced the President of the United States to surrender to them. The severed head of a presidential aide named Kenny O'Brien was delivered in a box to the Illinois State Police with a note pinned to his cheek spelling the whole thing out. I'm to report to Reddington immediately."  
  
"False-Face --" It was Wildcat who spoke.  
  
"God help us," Dr Mid-Nite murmured.  
  
Batman felt his palms sweating. "We're going with you, Colonel, and the only way you can stop us is to shoot us. I know False-Face better than anybody."  
  
Flagg nodded, "Yeah, okay," and the four broke into a run toward the Batplane.  
  
Batman could feel that False-Face was poised for the final strike, and he knew he would have to defeat him. The stakes were high, and there could be only one survivor.  
  
***  
  
"Only one member of the cabinet was unable to make it, Mr Vice-President."  
  
The vice-president of the United States, a big, well-connected, Texan, stood behind the podium where, during a normal joint session of Congress, the President of the United States would stand. The whispered voice belongd to one of his aides, Dan Carlysle.  
  
"Who couldn't attend, Danny?"  
  
"The secretary of agriculture, sir, but his under secretary, Dr Horn, is here in his place. The secretary was stricken with a mild case of food poisoning, but his doctors at Bethesda say he's coming along well and we can apprise him of any information he might need."  
  
"Excellent." The vice-president nodded, then looked away from the bespectacled, slightly built man. Beside him sat the Speaker of the House of Representatives. "Mr Speaker, are we ready?" he inquired.  
  
"Yes, sir, we are ready."  
  
"I'd like to suggest that after a brief introduction on your part, we get to the matter at hand as quickly as possible."  
  
"Agreed, Mr Vice-President." The white-haired man nodded gravely.  
  
In the galleries looking down on the House, the needed functionaries sat, filling the area normally reserved for family and invited guests of the government.  
  
Not a single member of either House was absent.  
  
For an instant, the vice-president had the disquieting thought that with the exception of the President himself, whose fate this meeting concerned, the entire United States government -- legislative, executive and judicial branches -- was present in one room.  
  
The Speaker of the House began. "In this trying period, there is no handily available precedent to sight as to the function of the commander-in-chief. For the sake of expediency, I think we should temporarily consider the President as incapable of exercising his office due to the circumstances of his captivity. In his stead, then, I present to you the vice-president of the United States."  
  
Uncomfortably the vice-president took the rostrum on the intermediary dais. In a thick southern drawl, he began: "Mr Speaker, I'll forego the usual lengthy introductions. I welcome y'all here. We meet in an hour of grave crisis. A crisis of which most of you here this evenin' have some awareness. I'll catalog the events. Sometime within the past several days, the town of Reddington, Illinois, was taken over by Nazis sympathetic to cause of the internationally known murderer and bomber known only as 'False- Face.' No one knows False-Face's real face or identity. At noon today, while the President and his motorcade made a scheduled stop in Reddington, these neo-Nazis, possibly under the leadership of False-Face personally, seized the President, his Secret Service detail and other personnel. The exact circumstances of the seizure are as yet unclear, but there is reportedly a bomb laced with VX nerve gas planted in the grammer school in the town of Reddington. There is ample reason to accept the validity of this claim, since False-Face recently perpetrated the theft of one hundred canisters of the VX nerve gas --" the vice-president stopped speaking, as shouts and cries rose from the floor. Behind him he could hear the Speaker's gavel rapping.  
  
The vice-president shouted into the microphone, "Various members of the Congress were alerted to this occurrence, but for security reasons the information was not broadly disseminated. But all this can be discussed later. Please," he shouted.  
  
It was several minutes before the volume of protest had died down and he could resume. "We are wastin' valuable time ... There have been no ransom demands, nothin'. The circumstances of the President's captivity and the mention of the nerve gas were part of a note pinned to the cheek of Kenny O'Brien, one of the President's aides. His head was delivered in a box to an Illinois State Police facility."  
  
The commotion began again, and the Speaker hammered a message of order into the chaos with his gavel.  
  
"Please," shouted the vice-president, "Y'all know what we know. There have been no demands, just the simple statement that if there is any attempt to rescue the President, the bomb will be detonated, spreading the nerve gas all through the town."  
  
There were cries again, louder, and some of the members of Congress rose to their feet. The vice-president shouted into the microphone, "There is one other vital piece of information before we begin deliberation. The President's life and the lives of the nearly one thousand people livin' in Reddington are at stake. The surroundin' area has been evacuated, and select National Guard units and the Eighty-second Airborne have been moved in."  
  
The commotion subsided again, as did the pounding of the Speaker's gavel.  
  
The vice-president sipped at a glass of water on the rostrum, then continued. "With the President, of course, was the Air Force sergeant who carries the satchel known as 'the football.' What this means is that a group of Nazis has possession of the codes and the mechanism by which a full-scale nuclear launch sequence could begin against the Soviet Union."  
  
He had expected shouting and there was none. He exhaled hard. He looked into the sea of faces that appeared in front of him. The wrath he had seen in some of them was suddenly gone. "We are at Defcon Two now," he continued, "so that in the event False-Face and his men should be able to force the President to use the code sequences, we'll be ready. It is impossible in so short a time to reprogram the mass launch sequences without putting the entire system off line and leaving ourselves vulnerable to an attack by the Soviet Union to which we could not respond."  
  
The saddest faces, the vice-president of the United States thought, were those of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the representatives of the CIA, and all the three and four-letter-designated agencies.  
  
The words spilled from him. "God help us all."  
  
***  
  
Selina Kyle sat with the sleeping child on her lap. Her fingers hurt from working the rosary beads, done half to perpetrate the lie that she was a Catholic nun and half out of being ... a little nervous. She hated to admit that of herself. But she was vastly outnumbered and didn't have any rooftops to fade into in the little town of Reddington.  
  
Her head ached from the eye strain caused by wearing the glasses that were a part of her disguise, and for the past twenty minutes she had sat with her eyes closed on a straight-back chair in the prisoner interrogation room of the town jail.  
  
A man armed with a machine gun stood outside the room, and down the hall were the two cells, that now held the President of the United States and his Secret Service protective detail. The Secret Service agents were handcuffed to the bars of their cells.  
  
The sound of the door opening brought her back to an alert state of mind. The man who posed as the police chief strode into the room, his left arm still in the sling. "Sister Angelica, is it?"  
  
"Yes." Selina Kyle nodded.  
  
"And you are visiting here from another convent?"  
  
"Yes, I am."  
  
"You are not Selina Kyle, the famous jewel thief known better as The Catwoman?"  
  
Selina Kyle hoped her eyes didn't betray her. "No -- do I look like a jewel thief?"  
  
"You are a very pretty woman under that --" and he gestured toward her habit.  
  
"I would have hoped that despite the evil thing you are doing, you would at least be a gentleman," Selina told him matter-of-factly.  
  
"I have no designs on you -- unless you wish me to."  
  
He was German and the English was very good, she noted. "I have no wish for this," she answered, then closed her eyes and picked up the rosary beads, which rested against her thighs.  
  
"The little girl," he continued, "is perhaps hungry. You are hungry?"  
  
She opened her eyes again. She wasn't hungry. She dropped the rosary beads to her skirt. "Yes, I'm hungry. At least I think I am. The little girl -- I don't know."  
  
"You can get out of this room for a time, then. We also commandeered a hamburger stand by the highway, and they've kindly catered for us," and he laughed. "The manager was very helpful when we threatened to execute his entire staff unless they brought us food."  
  
"You are an animal," she said, picking up the beads.  
  
"I serve the great cause of the new order, Sister Angelica. Were I the animal you think I am, the child's head would have been sent to the state police post, not the head of the President's aide. Come and eat -- Sister."  
  
Selina Kyle nodded, whispering to the child, "Wake up, darling, come on. We're going to have something to eat. Come on, please," and the little girl began to stir.  
  
She stretched and rubbed her eyes and then looked at Selina, saying, "Hamburgers?"  
  
Selina, despite herself, smiled. "Yes, yes. Come on."  
  
The little girl didn't seem fully awake, and her own legs stiff, Selina Kyle rose from the chair with the little girl in her arms. She heard the soft clicking of the rosary beads as they moved against her clothes, punctuating the child's breathing.  
  
***  
  
Batman walked beside Colonel Flagg. Flagg looked mildly out of place in a suit covered by a raincoat. But so did the three costumed crimefighters, who were all wearing masks. Around them, as they crossed from the road to the center of the conclave, were red and green-bereted, fatigue-clad men carrying M-1s and other assorted military equipment, festooned with pistols and fragmentation grenades. In the distance, the Caped Crusader saw a team with a flamethrower, and behind them a couple of Sherman tanks. Helicopter rotor blades idled lazily, contrasting sharply with the otherwise frantic pace of the hastily put together command post.  
  
Flagg buttonholed a second lieutenant, a National Guardsman, distinguishable by his standard headgear. "Lieutenant, we're looking for General Pauley."  
  
"In that tent, sir, at the center," the lieutenant responded, then called out to a man passing him, "Corporal Brown, take these gentlemen to the general's tent."  
  
"Yes, sir," the corporal returned. "If you gentlemen would follow me, please."  
  
The Masked Manhunter caught the corporal eyeing him, and said as they walked by, "I'm called Batman."  
  
"Thank you, sir, I was wondering."  
  
Batman nodded.  
  
Dr Mid-Nite remembered to himself that he hated meeting generals -- especially ones he'd met before. Creighton Pauley was one of these.  
  
"Here you are, gentlemen," and the corporal smiled as they stopped before a large, dark-brown tent.  
  
The corporal dismissed himself, and Flagg poked his head through the tent flap.  
  
Dr Mid-Nite groaned as he followed the CIA officer and held the tent flap for Batman and Wildcat, who followed after him.  
  
"I hate meeting brass!" Wildcat complained.  
  
"You think you hate it. I know this guy!" Mid-Nite whispered hoarsely.  
  
"Yeah, but you deal with these kind of people all the time. You should be used to it."  
  
Batman said nothing as he crossed the tent floor in Flagg's wake. He could already see the skinhead haircut, the beer belly in the starched creased fatigues at the far end. On the general's hip was a regulation officer's gunbelt for the .45.  
  
Colonel Flagg stopped at the wall of plastic-covered maps before which General Pauley stood. Flagg cleared his throat. Dr Mid-Nite smiled. Pauley knew they were there but was making them sweat. Dr Mid-Nite shrugged, and said something that was somewhat out of character for him, "Hey, skindome -- remember me?"  
  
Flagg's head snapped around. Wildcat laughed in spite of the situation when he saw Flagg's eyes -- white rimmed and wide.  
  
General Pauley's voice was the next voice Batman heard. "I would have figured only a costumed freak would be insubordinate enough to call me that, Mid-Nite. Thought I'd never see you, again."  
  
"You know what they say about bad pennies. I never thought I was going to see you again, either."  
  
Flagg cleared his throat again.  
  
"You got a cough, son -- want some water?" snorted Pauley.  
  
"No, sir -- I mean, General. I'm Sam Flagg, with the CIA. Here are my credentials," and Flagg started digging for his identification case.  
  
"Never mind that," Pauley barked. "If you weren't who you say you are you would never have gotten into the camp here. Who are these other two costumed characters?"  
  
Wildcat didn't say a word. Batman answered. "I'm Batman, General Pauley, and this is Wildcat."  
  
"You guys sure do dress funny. Love the cape, Bat-Man," Pauley said with a sneer.  
  
"These gentlemen are with me," Colonel Flagg interceded. "They represent a group of costumed crimefighters called the Justice Society of America, made up of a number of mystery men with remarkable powers. They've been in on this nerve gas theft since the beginning, and I'm stuck with them since they know more about False-Face than anybody. They stopped False-Face's attempt to detonate a bomb laced with VX in Gateway City and thwarted a second attempt to destroy NASA space headquarters in Cape Canaveral, although the device did detonate in space."  
  
"What's a matter with you costumed creeps, can't find and defeat one guy -- this False-Face character?"  
  
Batman felt his left eyebrow raise underneath the cowl, but he answered calmly, "No, we figured it was more important to make sure that the bombs laced with the nerve gas didn't go off around people before we nabbed the suspect. Sorry you disapprove."  
  
"You don't like me do you, Bat-Man?" Pauley's tone was bullying.  
  
"You read other people's feelings well," Batman replied.  
  
"Bullshit. Hell --"  
  
Dr Mid-Nite interrupted. "I believe we have more important concerns than personal animosities, General Pauley. But, of course, that's only the opinion of a costumed creep."  
  
"It's great the way people just instantly warm to you, isn't it, General?" Wildcat said.  
  
Pauley didn't answer but, after a moment, pointed a brass-tipped swagger stick at the nearest wall map. "All right -- this is Reddington. I've got the entire town ringed, got helicopters in the air over the ring to keep anyone from getting in or out. I was instructed to wait until proper civilian authorities arrived. So what's the scam, Flagg?" Pauley asked, looking at Flagg and jabbing his index finger toward him.  
  
"There's been no further word from the Nazis holding the President?" Flagg began.  
  
"If there had been, fella, I would have mentioned it real quick," Pauley grunted.  
  
"I see," said Flagg. "Well --"  
  
Batman pushed between the two men to study the map. "Let's cut the crap here. Where's the school where they supposedly have the nerve gas canister?"  
  
Pauley shouldered over beside him. "Right there, near the edge of town."  
  
"Your men are how far out?"  
  
"Two miles -- plenty visible to the Nazis."  
  
Batman looked back at the map. "Can they be contacted?"  
  
"Negative on that."  
  
"Not good," Batman muttered, trying to think.  
  
"I'll go to the town, contact them personally," Dr Mid-Nite volunteered.  
  
Batman shook his head, "We'd be just giving them another hostage."  
  
"Maybe a bunch of JSA members could --" Wildcat started.  
  
"Shut up, Pussycat," Pauley snarled to Wildcat.  
  
Wildcat started to step toward the general, but Batman caught his attention, "A raid? I don't think so. We don't know the layout well enough. And we don't have any idea how many of them there are or just exactly where they're holding the President. Even if we did, a lot of innocent people could be killed in the process."  
  
"Then what can we do?" Colonel Flagg asked.  
  
"Yeah, are you some kind of tactical genius, Bat-Man? What can we do?" Pauley mocked.  
  
"You're telling everybody in the area this some kind of exercise, right?" Batman asked.  
  
Pauley only nodded.  
  
"All right, you've got state police by the road. Have them hunt us down some people who are familiar with Reddington, people who went to that school, so we can figure out where the nerve gas might be kept."  
  
"What the hell is going on -- and who the fuck put you in charge, caped creep?" Pauley snapped.  
  
Colonel Flagg cleared his throat. "False-Face has never been stopped. Except by one man -- this man. I hate his guts, too, same as you, General. But I also realize Batman's the only hope we've got against this fiend. I'm in charge, right?"  
  
Pauley hesitated, then nodded, "My orders read that."  
  
"Then you listen to him." Flagg's voice was edged with something final, deliberate.  
  
Batman looked at Colonel Flagg and nodded.  
  
"Just get the damn President out of there alive, Batman," Flagg said. "Get him out before False-Face decides to use the 'football' the President carries to start World War III."  
  
Batman lowered his voice as he looked at the men who were facing him. He merely informed them, "I got a plan."  
  
To be continued ... 


	5. Chapter 5

JSA: The Face Of Evil  
  
By Bruce Wayne  
  
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters portrayed in this story are copyright by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit by the author.  
  
CHAPTER 5  
  
Dr Horn, the under secretary of agriculture, was walking toward the podium, holding something in his hand. The vice-president stared at him.  
  
"Dr Horn," he said, "is there somethin' wrong? Dr Horn?"  
  
The under secretary of agriculture stood alone before the forward dais, and the congressional officers turned to stare at him.  
  
"Is there somethin' wrong, Dr Horn?"  
  
Horn spoke, but the voice was cold and sharp. "I am False-Face, the man you referred to as ruthless a moment ago. Well, Mr Vice-President, gentlemen and ladies, let me assure you that I am. And a mass murderer, as well. And if that sergeant at arms comes any closer, you will learn firsthand how much a mass murderer I can be." Then the self-proclaimed False-Face raised his right hand, the object he had been carrying clearer now. It looked like a battery pack for Horn's hearing aid.  
  
"This is a detonator -- a multifunctional device," False-Face said. "It can, for example, explode the tiniest of explosives --" and with great drama, the man who looked like Dr Horn, but sounded very Germanic, sounded slightly insane, removed the cover of the hearing-aid battery pack. The vice-president watched as False-Face worked a small switch.  
  
In the public gallery, the press gallery and on the main floor by some of the gold-trimmed double doors at the sides of the chamber there were sudden puffs of smoke followed by the tinkling of glass. The smell of gunpowder was acrid in the air.  
  
The vice-president recoiled, and Secret Service agents rushed toward False- Face. False-Face shouted, "One step nearer, and the bombs that I've laced with VX nerve gas I have planted beneath the Capitol and throughout Washington shall be detonated! Only one step!"  
  
The Secret Service detail stopped.  
  
"Those were harmless devices that I just caused to detonate. Do not be alarmed -- yet." He laughed at his own mirthless joke.  
  
False-Face's right index finger moved and another button was pressed. There was a roar from the corridor beyond the doors.  
  
"Jesus!" one of the joint chiefs shouted.  
  
The vice-president spoke into his microphone. "Mr False-Face, that was --"  
  
"Merely conventional explosives, calculated to do little or no damage. The next time I push one of these buttons, this city will be filled with dead bodies in the streets. The same thing will happen in the capitals of the NATO alliance and the Warsaw Pact. The United States government is now hostage to my demands, to which -- False-Face smiled broadly "-- I shall soon make all of you, and all the world, privy. But another demonstration first."  
  
False-Face was staring at the vice-president, and the vice-president was watching the killer's eyes. It was the familiar face of Dr Horn, but a madness was there, a quality he had once seen as a boy when a hired hand on the family ranch had gone berserk and killed a horse with a pitchfork.  
  
"Chief sergeant at arms," yelled False-Face. "The time, please! Quickly!"  
  
The vice-president looked at the chief sergeant at arms and nodded to the man. "Tell him the time."  
  
"It is eleven minutes past nine, sir."  
  
"Excellent. Contact the Nevada State Patrol and ask them to confirm that a large bomb has just detonated in a ghost town one hundred miles north of Las Vegas. And --" False-Face smiled again "-- feel free to contact the FBI, the CIA, the Army, the Marines, for all I care. Let them know your predicament here, but return immediately. Tell them if I am shot and the detonator falls from my hand, the last button with activate. Tell them that if I am thrown to the ground and the detonator taken from me, the detonator will activate. Tell them that if there is any sign of a planned move against me, this entire section of the country will be filled with millions of dead bodies. It is I who have engineered the taking of your President. I whose whim it is now to keep your President alive. Should I detonate my weapons, the weapon where the President is being held will also be detonated. As will all the others, plunging the world into a total war."  
  
"Go and make that phone call," the vice-president ordered the chief sergeant at arms.  
  
The man walked through the twin gold-trimmed wooden doors and was gone.  
  
***  
  
The Vice-President of the United States could do nothing but listen. It was the chief sergeant at arms who spoke. "The blast in Nevada has been confirmed. It was just as the gentleman indicated."  
  
False-Face said, "Very good. You have alerted what authorities remain, I assume."  
  
The chief sergeant at arms nodded.  
  
Then False-Face ascended the steps to the intermediary dais, where the President would usually stand, and the big, Texan, vice-president eyed the detonator. "Mr Vice-President. I assure you once again that if you attempt to grab the detonator, however brave such an act might be, all in here shall die and devastation shall rack the world capitals, including your own."  
  
Camly, the vice-president murmured, "Son of a bitch."  
  
"I hate that term," False-Face said forcefully. "If you use it again, I'll have you executed. Now be a good man and sit down. And remember, if someone attempts to jump me, we all die," and he smiled, his blue eyes bright and clear and mad.  
  
The vice-president nodded, then stepped back to sit beside the Speaker of the House of Representatives.  
  
False-Face began to speak. "I do not wish to overwhelm you with all my demands at once." His voice echoed through the PA system, exuding confidence, almost laughing at them, the vice-president thought. "First the chief sergeant at arms shall go outside and make arrangements for a message to sent immediately over radio station WTOP. The message simply is: 'Come as you are.' The chief sergeant at arms will then make the arrangements for Capitol Police to allow my associates inside. Fifty of them. They are all heavily armed. If they are not summoned or an attempt is made to stop them, I use this," and False-Face raised the detonator. "I then wish for Capitol Police to ring the building to keep all other parties outside. Especially people who enjoy frolicking in masks and capes. They may be mystery men to you -- but they are no mystery to me. A well meaning assault by Batman and his cohorts would only precipitate disaster for you all."  
  
False-Face turned around, leaning his right elbow carelessly against the rostrum. His eyes met the vice-president's. "Tell the chief sergeant at arms to do as I say -- immediately."  
  
The vice-president whispered hoarsely but loudly enough for the chief sergeant at arms to hear him, "Do as this man says -- to the letter." The vice-president's only hope was that he'd live long enough to spit on False- Face's grave.  
  
***  
  
Selina Kyle ate her hamburger slowly. She hadn't been hungry for it despite the fact it tasted good and was hot. The young girl, Elizabeth, was nibbling at French fries.  
  
Selina watched the President through the bars of the cell. He wasn't eating. The Secret Service agents looked positively tormented, she thought. Some of them ate, some did not. But they were helpless -- each man's right wrist was shackled to one of the bars of the cell with a set of handcuffs.  
  
The Nazi with the injured shoulder sat opposite her, and she began to speak to him. "Are you the leader here?" She knew he was not False-Face.  
  
"Yes, Sister, here I am the leader. But I am subordinate, and proudly so, to one who is the leader of leaders, who shall lead the world this night. False-Face."  
  
"What is he doing to lead the world tonight?" Selina Kyle asked, trying to sound innocent.  
  
The man shrugged. "I do not know. But I know that tonight is the night. Herr False-Face is too great to confide his overall plan to anyone. And that is just as well. Then I, too, can experience the exultation the world will experience when it learns of his glory and his leadership."  
  
"Is insanity a needed qualification to serve False-Face?"  
  
The man's eyes flashed. "You think to provoke me, Sister? To what end? To grab a gun, perhaps? Here, then," and the Nazi set down his hamburger, wiped his hand on the yellow napkin and reached under his coat. His hand reappeared clutching a gleaming stainless-steel revolver.  
  
"Here, Sister. The gun is loaded." He opened the cylinder and turned the gun toward her so she could see the case heads of the cartridges. "This is why we shall win, Sister. This is why," and he closed the revolver, set it on the table and pushed it across to her.  
  
The gun slid to a stop in front of her half-eaten hamburger. The little girl started to cry. "Quiet, darling," Selina Kyle said in her best Sister Mary Angelica voice.  
  
"Go ahead, Sister, pick it up and shoot me in the face -- ha!"  
  
Selina Kyle hated the man's smugness.  
  
"You are afraid of the guard with the submachine gun there at the door?"  
  
Selina looked to the guard who stood by the door to the interrogation room watching them, the machine gun held almost too casually.  
  
Her handsome interrogator went on, "Then I shall have him leave," and he turned to the man with the machine gun. "Martin, go outside and have a cigarette. Do not return until I call you."  
  
"But Herr Stasser --"  
  
"No, do as you are told, Martin."  
  
The guard promptly turned on his heels and walked through the doorway, closing the door to the detention area behind him.  
  
"There, Sister," said Selina's captor, "take the gun and do your worst. The cell area is soundproof."  
  
Selina Kyle looked at the gun. Her mind wandered to Batman and she wondered if he was alive. Was he somewhere near her, right now? She couldn't wait to find out. She could feel that the eyes of the Secret Service agents and the President were on her, waiting for her to respond.  
  
"Throw me the gun, Sister!" It was one of the Secret Service agents.  
  
Slowly she reached out to the table. The tips of her fingers touched the gun.  
  
"Perhaps the presence of the little girl disturbs you," taunted Stasser. "Perhaps you would not wish her to see a religious person kill another human being. I can call Martin back to remove her."  
  
Selina Kyle picked up the gun. The weight seemed to be right. She didn't believe it was loaded with blanks.  
  
She held the gun.  
  
"Shoot me, Sister. You cock the hammer and pull the trigger. Simple."  
  
Selina Kyle stood up and walked over to the little girl. With her right hand she held the revolver pointing to the floor. With her left she slowly removed her glasses.  
  
"You'll drop it if you hold it that way, Sister. No guts -- no courage to save the President of the United States, no courage to kill? That is why we shall win, why we shall always triumph!" Stasser sneered.  
  
Selina stood beside Elizabeth, and the girl dropped her French fries onto her dress as she stared at the menacing gun.  
  
"Darling, you just stand over here, out of the way. I'm going to have to teach this bad man a lesson he'll never forget."  
  
"Just cock the hammer and pull the trigger. Even a religious fool should be able to do that."  
  
Selina Kyle whispered, "No need -- just a good, long, double-action pull would do the trick, you jackass."  
  
To the amazement of everyone in the room, Sister Angelica's voice changed to something with a hardened edge to it. "Where I come from, only chicken- shits use guns."  
  
Stasser's eyes suddenly grew larger.  
  
Selina Kyle informed him, "When I hurt your shoulder in the woods -- that's nothing compared to what I'm going to do to you now, you Nazi moron."  
  
She handed the gun through the bars to the President. "Would you be a dear and hold this for me for a moment? I'm going to seperate this gentleman's other shoulder for him."  
  
***  
  
Another member of the Justice Society of America had arrived at the command post in Reddington. Answering the call for additional help was Mr Terrific from Gateway City.  
  
The first thing that Mr Terrific heard as he entered the tent was, "That's a crazy plan! All you'll succeed in doing is to get yourself killed, and the President, too," Flagg insisted, stabbing a finger at Batman.  
  
Batman asked, "You got a better plan?"  
  
"That's beside the point."  
  
Wildcat said, "It sounds pretty good to me -- a little suicidal, maybe, but it might work. Nobody knows False-Face -- I mean nobody really knows him."  
  
"Wildcat has a point there, Colonel Flagg," chimed in Dr Mid-Nite. "And Batman's gambled against False-Face before and survived."  
  
"What's the plan?" Mr Terrific asked.  
  
"Listen," Flagg said, ignoring the new arrival's question, "Don't take that shit I was giving General Pauley seriously, Batman."  
  
"What's the plan?" Mr Terrific asked again.  
  
"You can't hurt my feelings, Colonel," Batman replied.  
  
Dr Mid-Nite looked to Mr Terrific and explained the situation in a manner of a few moments.  
  
Mr Terrific said to the men who were assembled, "You got a plan of the school from that housewife and you know the general layout of the town, and now you are going to ask the military to pull back ten miles outside the town and bring down all his helicopters. Have I got that right?"  
  
"You got it, Terrific," Wildcat said. He then looked to Flagg. "All you got to do is order it, Colonel."  
  
"Nuts -- those masks you guys wear must be too tight on your heads. You're all crazy," Flagg said.  
  
"We have to bail out the President and his so-called 'football,' Dr Mid- Nite countered.  
  
"Hey," said Flagg, "False-Face's a killer, he's loony, maybe, but he's not going to start some atomic war with the Russians just when we put ourselves right in his pocket."  
  
Batman shrugged. "Maybe that is his plan -- I don't know. But I do know we can't wait around for that joint session of Congress to negotiate with him. And he hasn't even given us a list of demands yet. Word of any of this leaks out and it's panic city. -- world money market takes a dive, anarchy reigns, maybe the Russians will attack us."  
  
"He's right, Colonel," Mr Terrific put in.  
  
"I cannot authorize --" Flagg began.  
  
A second lieutenant ran up to them. "Which one of you gentlemen is Colonel Flagg?"  
  
Flagg looked to the four costumed heroes surrounding him. "Do any of these clowns look like they would be called, Colonel, son?"  
  
"Sorry, sir." the young officer replied. "Sir, the general needs you over there."  
  
Batman was already in motion. The other three crimefighters flanked him.  
  
General Pauley was sitting at a table on the far end of the tent beside the maps, the flesh on his skull gleaming in the light of the yellow bulb over the table. It was pretty quiet, and the hum of the electrical generator outside that powered the tent was the only noise Batman could hear beside his own breathing.  
  
"What is it, General?" Batman asked.  
  
General Pauley, looking older and more tired than he was a short while ago, raised his head. His blue eyes were tear rimmed. "Here, read it yourself. I had to personally decode it -- shit," and Pauley stuffed the folded piece of paper into Batman's right hand.  
  
Batman opened the cable and read:  
  
EYES ONLY GENERAL CREIGHTON WOTHINGTON PAULEY, REDDINGTON FIELD HEADQUARTERS, USCONARC  
  
With the capture of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, it is my privilege to inform you that a board of general officers has designated you acting chief of staff of the Army. Your presence in Washington is required immediately.  
  
"Capture of the Joint Chiefs?" Batman murmured.  
  
"Read this," Pauley rasped, handing Batman a second note. "Decoded this one, too."  
  
EYES ONLY COLONEL (RET.) SAM FLAGG, CENTRAL INTELLIGENCE AGENCY, REDDINGTON FIELD HEADQUARTERS, USCONARC  
  
Sir: Your presence is required immediately in Washington. A man claiming to be the fugitive only known as "False-Face" has just taken over the special joint session of Congress called to meet the crisis of the presidential kidnapping. The suspect has indicated that the Capitol building is mined with bombs laced with VX nerve gas, and there is reason to believe this claim has some validity. Special U.S. Air Force transport awaits your arrival.  
  
Wildcat whispered, "Holy shit."  
  
Dr Mid-Nite cleared his throat and said, "False-Face's gambit is finally revealed. I almost feel a sense of relief in a bizarre way."  
  
"What a conspiracy," Mr Terrific murmured.  
  
"Conspiracy?" Dr Mid-Nite raised his voice as if in a question. "Quite, yes. The greatest conspiracy the world has ever known."  
  
Batman said nothing. His plan, skeletal as it was, was all they had left. The entire United States government was the prisoner of a single Nazi madman.  
  
***  
  
Selina Kyle looked at the President of the United States. There was no key to his cell. "Mr President. Go to the back corner of the cell, as far from the door as you can, then shield yourself with that mattress and the pillow. I'm going to shoot the lock off, and I have to fire at an angle. Otherwise I might hit one of your Secret Service men in the next cell."  
  
"Are you a nun, miss?"  
  
"No, sir, but there's no time for that."  
  
"Are you an American agent?"  
  
"I'm a jewel thief called Catwoman. I was their prisoner, too. I'll tell you later."  
  
"Catwoman?!" one of the Secret Service agents exclaimed. "I've heard of you. You're a criminal out of Gotham City."  
  
Selina rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I got a bad press agent. The newspapers are always writing bad things about me. You want me to get him out of here, or not?"  
  
The little girl was crying, and Selina held her against her skirts -- it was the safest place.  
  
Selina aimed the pistol and fired once at the lock.  
  
"You got it," one of the Secret Service agents shouted. "Now get him the hell out of here, lady!"  
  
But what about you and the others, Fox?" the President asked, pushing away the mattress and the pillow, throwing his weight against the door. Lock parts sprang from it to the floor.  
  
"We'll be all right -- for the time being, anyway -- Mr President."  
  
"I can try shooting off the cuffs for one or two of you --" Selina began.  
  
"You look like you can handle a gun as well as any of us. How much ammo did you find on the suspect over there who you beat the crap out of?" Fox asked.  
  
"Six loose rounds, nothing else."  
  
"Don't waste them on us, then. Get him out of here. There's a spare key for the presidential limousine on a magnetic plate under the rear bumper and the limo's got the best armor plating money can buy. I saw them hauling the Air Force sergeant and the 'football' toward the school. Without the President to use the codes, the 'football' won't mean shit. With the President out of here, we've got a simple hostage situation, and maybe we can talk them out of using that bomb and nerve gas inside the school."  
  
The President of the United States stepped through the jail-cell doorway. He extended his right hand and squeezed the hand of the man he'd called Fox. "I understand the agents in the advance party nicknamed you 'Paranoid' Fox. Well, if I ever hear anyone using that nickname again, I'll personally punch him out. Good luck, and God bless you all."  
  
He turned and looked at Selina Kyle. "You seem to be my rescuer, miss," and he gave the familiar grin she'd seen so often in newsreel footage and in the magazines and newspapers. "So where to?"  
  
"We have to take the little girl, then get to the school and take control of the bomb. I know the man who's behind all this, the one they call False- Face. He'd kill the children. I know that."  
  
"Mr President, get out of here --" came the voice of "Paranoid" Fox.  
  
"She's right, Fox. Maybe we'll be back for you."  
  
The President started for the doorway and then pulled up. "What about the man with the submachine gun?" he asked Selina.  
  
"Shout for help. He won't expect that. I'll take care of him, while you hold the little girl," she replied. She noticed that her voice sounded a hell of lot surer about things than she felt.  
  
The President nodded, taking the little girl and sweeping her up into his arms. "It'll be all right, sweetheart," he whsipered. Then opened the door and shouted, "Help! Help us in here -- hurry!"  
  
The President stepped back as Selina stood beside the door.  
  
When the doorway burst open she had counted ten seconds.  
  
The man with the machine gun stood stock-still in the doorway for an instant, his eyes wide in surprise. But before he could react, Selina's fist shot him in the nose, spraying blood everywhere. His body crumpled to the floor and Selina kicked him in the head three times to make sure he stayed down. The President, still holding the little girl in his arms, snatched up the submachine gun.  
  
Selina started to search the unconscious man for weapons. She found another pistol and eighteen loose rounds of ammo for it.  
  
"You know how to handle a submachine gun, Mr President?" she asked.  
  
"I was a PT boat commander in the Navy. We never had to use one of those."  
  
"Think you could use a revolver?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
She nodded, feeling her nun's veil move as she did, not having the time to play with the pins that held it to her hair. She stood up and passed one of the pistols and the machine gun through the bars to the man the President had called "Paranoid" Fox. "Agent Fox -- there's a nice champagne with your name -- maybe this will help you." On neither of the two men had there been handcuff keys.  
  
Stasser wasn't going anywhere except to see a doctor in an emergency room. Martin would eventually wake up with a mountain-size headache and blurred vision.  
  
She started back to the door, taking the child back into her arms. "You'll have to run with us," she said soothingly. "Can you be a brave girl?"  
  
The little girl sniffed back a tear and looked into Selina's eyes.  
  
"I knew you could be. I bet you like cats, too." Selina smiled, then kissed the child's forehead. She set the girl down, and handed the President the pistol and the spare rounds of ammo. "Don't waste it, Mr President," she said.  
  
"Shouldn't you be armed, miss?"  
  
"Never use them," she replied with a twinkle in her eye.  
  
He nodded solemnly. "I'll hold the girl's hand -- you might need both of yours to put some more of these thugs out of commission. You seem to be very good at it."  
  
Selina nodded back.  
  
With the President of the United States beside her, the little girl between them, Selina Kyle started ahead.  
  
To be continued ... 


	6. Chapter 6

JSA: The Face Of Evil  
  
By Bruce Wayne  
  
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters portrayed in this story are copyright by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit by the author.  
  
CHAPTER 6  
  
There were five armed men outside the police station. A radio played loudly from a car near them. Perhaps that is what kept them occupied and unconcerned about what might had been happening inside the police station. The music was unpleasant to Selina. She wasn't fond of this newer music called rock. She preferred the opera.  
  
"Ready, Mr President?" she whispered.  
  
"Yes, as ready as I'll ever be, Miss -- Kyle was it?"  
  
"Selina Kyle, Mr President."  
  
She started ahead, moving like her namesake -- The Catwoman. She tried to narrow the distance so she could get all five men at once. At least one of them, a tall, red-haired man, was armed with a submachine gun. He would be first. The distance to the five men was now less than twenty yards.  
  
The men were on the other side of the car that she approached. She knew what she was going to do.  
  
At the distance of ten yards, she broke into a silent run and leaped. Her hands hit the top of the car roof and her body sprang upwards into the air with the grace of an Olympic gymnast. Her body spun once in the air and landed feet first into the chest of the man with the machine gun. He crumpled to the ground never knowing what hit him.  
  
Selina landed on her feet, just like a cat. She kicked out with one leg and struck another thug in the chest, sending him into the side of the car, back first.  
  
Spinning her body on the ball of her left foot, she kicked out again, sending another adversary sprawling to the ground.  
  
One of the Nazis tried to reach out for her. She grabbed his wrist, twisted his arm all the way around and flipped him the ground. The man hit his head on the asphalt and was knocked unconscious.  
  
Another villian threw a punch at her. Selina easily ducked the clumsy attempt and threw her own fist into the man's stomach. With the wind knocked out of this Nazi, it was quite easy for Selina to throw another punch, this one into the face, that put the man down.  
  
One of the men tried to get up. He was hurt -- his right hand clamped to his chest. He tried to pull out a pistol from the waistband of his pants. But he was much too slow for the likes of Gotham City's Catwoman. A flying drop kick to the face put the man out for the count.  
  
She stood for a moment, surveying the carnage she had wrought. She grabbed all the guns she could find and threw them into the back of the car. She looked behind the wheel of the car the five men had grouped around and found the keys were in the ignition. She leaned inside and shut the radio off.  
  
Selina glanced at the President as he ran up to her with the little girl.  
  
"Get into the backseat, Mr President, and keep the little girl down. We'll use the car to get into the school."  
  
"Well, miss," said the President, "I don't know just how we'll work it, you an infamous jewel thief, you said, but --"  
  
"But what, Mr President?" she asked, sliding behind the wheel.  
  
"Well --" She heard the rear door slam, glanced into the rearview mirror. "I just think a Congressional Medal of Honor would look lovely around your neck."  
  
She smiled and fired the ignition. "Thank you, Mr President." She chuckled to herself wondering what Batman would think about that.  
  
***  
  
The blue-hooded and caped adventurer known as The Atom joined Batman, Wildcat, Dr Mid-Nite and Mr Terrific around the table with General Pauley. Pauley wondered how the crimefighter could see and breathe because his face was totally obscured.  
  
The five members of the Justice Society of America were alone in the tent beneath the yellow glare of a single bulb. Colonel Flagg had left for Washington. Pauley was holding back, waiting.  
  
"Logically," Wildcat finally said, "the chances of False-Face's men in Reddington knowing False-Face's plans in Washington are highly remote. If there's a news blackout, likely they know nothing of it."  
  
"Unless they have another contact source," Dr Mid-Nite interjected.  
  
"But it couldn't be reliable," continued Wildcat. "How would False-Face know, for example, whether the government has some arrangement with the telephone company to suspend all communications or to switch all radio programming to prerecorded programs with no deejay chatter. Maybe there wouldn't be a way for False-Face to get word to these guys at all."  
  
"We cut all telephone lines in and out of Reddington except a direct line to this tent," General Pauley agreed.  
  
Batman had been listening, and now he spoke. "I think Wildcat is right. If we go on the basis of False-Face's track record, his obsession with secrecy, the villians in Reddington probably know something was to happen, but they don't know what or where."  
  
"So you can bluff them, Batty?" Atom said.  
  
Batman winced at the Atom's nickname for him. "Maybe," he nodded.  
  
"But to convince them you're False-Face," General Pauley began.  
  
"It's the only gamble we have. I speak German perfectly, and I can mimic the accent," Batman explained. "I know as much about False-Face as there is to know."  
  
Wildcat interrupted, "When I fought him in the apartment in London --"  
  
"When was this?" Pauley asked.  
  
"Before the thing in Florida," Wildcat replied. He shifted his eyes to Dr Mid-Nite and the crimefighter flushed. "But there's no time for details. He got away during a fire that started. But he was tall, about Batman's height. I think you can pull it off."  
  
"But I still don't understand how you can convince them you're False-Face," said Pauley.  
  
"You just get those choppers on the ground, out of sight of the town, and draw your forces back to beyond ten miles of the city. All I need is one helicopter to fly me in, leave me there, then fly out," Batman said.  
  
"I don't know," Pauley began.  
  
"If it doesn't work," Mr Terrific said, "the other option is an assault. And that means they'll detonate the bomb laced with nerve gas, kill every man, woman and child in Reddington, and the President, too. And maybe the atomic 'football' figures in their plan. They may have the President pumped up on drugs right now and be getting the launch codes from him. Then we have World War III. And how long before some enterprising KGB agent finds out False-Face is holding the entire United States government hostage at a joint session of Congress? No, we don't have time for anything else. If Batman doesn't come back out in two hours, you do what you want and good luck with it. We'll help you."  
  
Pauley's eyes had a yellow cast to them under the light of the bulb. His cheeks were sunken and a hint of gray-blond stubble highlighted his chin. He extended his right hand across the table to Batman. "I think you guys are crazy frolicking around in public in your underwear, but I respect you gentlemen. Good luck."  
  
Batman took the general's hand. "Thank you."  
  
***  
  
Selina Kyle's borrowed nun's veil blew in the wind that rushed in through the open window of the Cadillac Fleetwood she had taken from the five gunmen. The double glass doors of the grammar school loomed ahead of her beyond the horseshoe-shaped driveway. The President of the United States, a pistol in each hand, was visible in the rearview mirror, and the little girl huddled on the rear floor.  
  
Selina shouted over the roar of the Cadillac's motor, over the pulse of the wind, "Keep the little girl down, Mr President -- we're going right through the doors. And shoot anybody you see inside the school who has a gun! Don't take any chances!"  
  
She stomped her foot down to the floorboard and cranked up her window. The car banged its way up the three low steps leading to the doors, scraping bottom and sending out a shower of sparks.  
  
The big Cadillac's steering wheel jumped under her clenched fists as she fought to keep control, and she turned her face away and hunched down in the seat as the front end hit the doors. The glass-and-aluminum doors exploded as the car plowed its way through. A metal center post broke off between the doors, and for an instant she though it would impale her through the Cadillac's windshield. But it shot up and out of sight, over the mating point of the roofline and windshield.  
  
The car careered down a small corridor and punched through another set of doors.  
  
Selina saw classrooms on her right side, and the large opening of a lunchroom filled her left field of view. She cut the wheel hard left, half- surprised the steering still responded. The Cadillac swerved wildly after bouncing off a doorframe, upending and tossing aside lunchroom tables and folding chairs.  
  
There were armed men running ahead of her. Young Sister Catherine, Sister Mary Albert and three other nuns were grabbing wildly for the children.  
  
Directly ahead of her, on a table, sat the bomb. One of the Nazis held something in his hand. "Mr President, kill that man beside the bomb -- I can't drive and take him out at the same time, damn it!"  
  
In the rearview mirror she saw him, like a marshal defending a stagecoach from marauding Indians, a revolver in each fist, wing shooting through the open rear passenger window behind her. The roar of guns discharging in the confined space of the car deafened her for an instant. The man beside the bomb lurched once, then reeled away from the impact of the slugs.  
  
Desperately she fought the wheel of the skidding Cadillac as she tried to bring the big car to a halt before it skidded toward the bomb.  
  
***  
  
Selina Kyle looked down at the three men she had just rendered unconscious. Two of them would probably seek medical attention after they woke up. The President had wounded two more, including the one who had held the detonator for the bomb that had a canister of VX nerve gas attached to it that dominated the far end of the lunchroom. Sister Mary Albert had decked one man with a folding chair across his back and neck. And Sister Catherine -- Selina hadn't thought the young girl had had it in her -- had tripped one of the Nazis, taken his machine gun from him and hit him over the head with it.  
  
Four more Nazi thugs had taken refuge in a fourth-grade classroom. The room had no windows, and Selina utilized an old Nazi ploy to get them to surrender. She connected a piece of tubing found in the kitchen by one of the nuns to the Cadillac's exhaust pipe, then shot out a hole in the classroom door and inserted the tubing. Avoiding fire from the inside room, she packed over the glass at the upper part of the classroom door and effectively sealed it with seat cushions taken from the teachers' chairs, then used rags to pack around the doorframe.  
  
She ran the Cadillac's motor for ten minutes until the Nazis, choking, surrendered. The President had kept the men away from the door and from blocking the exhaust fumes by spraying out covering fire through an air vent opening from the next classroom.  
  
Selina was tempted to let them die, the way the Nazis had Jews less than twenty years earlier, using automobile exhaust to gas them before the innovation of more efficient methods of mass extermination.  
  
But she let them live, and now, with the other wounded men, they were bound and placed by each door and window opening, to give their comrades, who had encircled the school, second thoughts about shooting into the building.  
  
The nuns had agreed to display weapons by the window and door openings, but they refused to fire them.  
  
Selina Kyle and the President stood beside the wrecked front doors waiting. The President had personally freed the Air Force sergeant who served to protect the 'football' with the launch-code sequences. Neither the sergeant nor the briefcase had been harmed, and with a machine gun, he now supervised the rear defense of the school.  
  
Selina began working at the pins to take the veil from her hair.  
  
Sister Mary Albert spoke. "You would have made a good nun, Selina -- got a lot of guts. And a nun needs guts, child."  
  
Selina felt herself smiling. "Thank you, Sister." She laughed and then said, "And you've got a lot of guts, too, Sister."  
  
The chubby nun smiled.  
  
The President spoke. "Ladies, we have the detonator, and until we learn otherwise, we should assume this is the only detonator that can make the bomb go off. So long as we can hold this position, there's a chance that either our forces assembled outside of Reddington will attack or the Secret Service agents will effect some sort of escape."  
  
Better still," Selina Kyle noted, "I think we have all the children now -- would you agree, Sister?" and she looked at Sister Mary Albert.  
  
"Every last one of them, including the babies. The third-grade classrooms were converted into nurseries, and some of the mothers are in charge of them. Sister Catherine went in and informed them when you and the President retook the school."  
  
All right, then, there should be enough guns in this town that maybe the people will rise up and attack the Nazis," Selina concluded.  
  
The President noted, "Fox overheard some of the Nazis say they had cleaned out the local gun shop -- left the weapons, but emptied all the boxes of ammunition and took the magazines from automatic pistols and semiautomatic rifles. The only guns that could be in the town would be things the citizens had hidden away. The Nazis collected all the privately held firearms they could find when they took over the town."  
  
"All right," Selina Kyle began. "Then what we must do is try to convert the school's PA system to broadcast outside, to let the people know we have all the children safe and sound."  
  
"Let's get started," the President said.  
  
"The Principal's office is this way," Sister Catherine said.  
  
***  
  
The Public Address system had been connected to speakers feeding into each classroom. While the President and the Air Force sergeant manned the barricades, Selina, the nuns and some of the mothers from the third-grade classrooms converted to nurseries stripped the speakers from each room while Selina worked to rearrange the wiring system.  
  
Their work was punctuated by sporadic gunfire and demands from some of the Nazis outside, but no serious attack took place in the half hour required to rearrange the speakers by the windows and doorways opening to the outside.  
  
Selina had moved the speaker's master console to the front corridor near the smashed glass doors.  
  
Behind cover to protect the system from gunfire, the President spoke: "Citizens of Reddington, this is the President of the United States. Because of the valiant efforts of Miss Selina Kyle and with the courageous assistance of the nuns, we have retaken the school, gained control of the detonator for the bomb that is laced with the VX nerve gas and overpowered the Nazis who threatened this community's children. It is now up to you. Your children are safe. Rise up and harass the Nazi invaders, attack when you can, hit and run, strike at their weakest points, force them to flee. Show these people that someone will stand up to them and they will be countered by the force of justice in the hearts of free men and women everywhere."  
  
He set down the microphone, and turned to Selina Kyle. "Well, Miss Kyle, it looks like we wait and see, doesn't it?"  
  
"Yes, Mr President, we wait and see."  
  
The Nazis ringing the school seemed to be massing for an attack.  
  
To be continued ... 


	7. Chapter 7

JSA: The Face Of Evil  
  
By Bruce Wayne  
  
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters portrayed in this story are copyright by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit by the author.  
  
CHAPTER 7  
  
The helicopter began to settle for a landing, its rotor blades stirring a cloud of sand and gravel from the ground below. It was nearly 8:00 A.M. The President had been the captive of the Nazis for twenty hours.  
  
Nazis, heavily armed, were ringing the landing area of the helicopter -- the corner of a baseball field at the farthest edge of town from the school and the location of the bomb that had a canister of VX nerve gas attached to it.  
  
Over the sound of the rotors, their beats like the throb of a heart pacing itself to occlusion, came the sound of a bullhorned voice, "Turn back, or the VX bomb will be detonated!"  
  
Batman raised the microphone for the helicopter PA system to his lips. "This is False-Face," he began with his best German accent. "Allow this craft to land and then depart. These are my orders!" He flicked off the PA microphone and said to the pilot, "Land her, Captain."  
  
"Yes, sir. Are you, uh, sure?"  
  
Batman answered into his headset microphone, "No, but we'll find out real quick if they start shooting at us, won't we?"  
  
"Yes, sir. Sure will, I guess." The man laughed with a rolling Deep South accent -- Batman guessed southern Georgia.  
  
Though the legend was that Batman only appeared at night, sometimes the mission dictated that he needed to be out in the daytime. This was one such mission that necessitated his appearance at 8:00 a.m. in the morning.  
  
Batman felt a roll and a lurch as the machine touched down. Then he snapped out of his seat restraint and stepped out through the open door and onto the ground, ducking instinctively as the machine began to go airborne again. The lenses over his eyes built into the cowl he wore protected his eyes against the cloud of dust and gravel. After the dust lifted, he was staring into the faces of two-dozen submachine-gun-armed Nazis.  
  
Two men came quickly forward, one tall, slightly built and fair haired, obviously shivering in the early-morning breeze. The second was also tall, but as dark as the first man was fair, and heavily built, swathed in an Arctic parka.  
  
Batman pulled his cape around him against the wind, moving slowly so they wouldn't think he was going for a weapon. He acted as though he owned the town and belonged there.  
  
"Guten Tag," the thin, shivering blond man nodded curtly.  
  
"Morgen" Batman nodded. He gambled none of the men knew False-Face -- it was not the Nazi's way to associate with underlings. "Ich heisse False-Face -- was ist Ihr Name?"  
  
"Goldstein, Herr False-Face!"  
  
Batman looked at the man carefully before saying, "Goldstein? Juden?"  
  
"Nein, Herr False-Face --"  
  
Batman interrupted him. "Hmmph --" He started to walk like he was in command of the world. He walked past the men, inspecting them like they belonged to him.  
  
He asked, "Wie viele Personen sind sie."  
  
The dark-haired man, falling in step slightly behind and Batman's left answered, "Neunundfunzig, mein Herr!"  
  
"Fifty-nine," Batman repeated in English. "We shall speak in English. It is more within the identity I have assumed of this Bat-Man," and the Caped Crusader added, the German accent gone now, "And where is the President, gentlemen?"  
  
"In the school, Herr False-Face. But it was the woman, the Catwoman, who set the President free," Goldstein stammered.  
  
"She is recaptured, then? Batman asked, keeping his voice as emotionless as he could.  
  
"No, Herr False-Face. The President is with her in the school. They have the detonator and have taken several of our personnel hostage. They have also freed the children of the town," the dark-haired man said.  
  
The frail-looking blond Nazi added, "And --"  
  
Batman stopped in his tracks staring at the man. "Out with it!" he demanded.  
  
The man visibly stiffened. "This woman, Catwoman, she was disguised as a nun, as a Catholic nun."  
  
Batman felt his lip twitch.  
  
"She beat the cra -- she injured -- Herr Stasser and he required medical attention. He has two seperated shoulders and several broken ribs. I have assumed command in his stead. We had no idea of your intentions or of plans for your arrival, Herr False-Face."  
  
Batman forced a laugh. "Have you any idea as to the nature of my disguise, or why a United States Army helicopter taxiied me to you?"  
  
Goldstein, looking very serious, shook his head and added hastily, "No, Herr False-Face, I have not."  
  
"IDIOT! What if I were not False-Face? Hmmmm? I could be anyone who spoke German!"  
  
The man went rigid.  
  
"Where is your SECURITY?" Batman spoke. He was angry, and his voice was sharp. "This is why this Catwoman was able to take the President from you. I have held an entire joint session of Congress while disguised as an under secretary of agriculture. Then, changing disguises to that of my enemy, whom I have personally disposed of -- Bat-Man -- I came here with the full knowledge of the American forces, convinced them I was this costumed fool who was," and Batman indulged himself, "the only man clever enough to foil one of my plans. I then informed the pilot once we had come in range of your guns that I would execute him and land the craft myself if he did not cooperate."  
  
"But they will close in, Herr False-Face!"  
  
Batman smiled at Goldstein. "Hardly. They do not know the President is not under our complete control at this moment -- of this I can assure you. And what of the bomb with the VX nerve gas?"  
  
He had changed the subject quickly from the question of his own identity. "Well, which of you shall tell me? Hmmm?"  
  
The dark man began to speak but changed his mind. It was Goldstein who explained. "They claim to have the detonator, and the President has spoken over a loudspeaker, calling for the citizens of the town to rise up against us. It is a stalemate, Herr False-Face."  
  
Batman reached into his utility belt, extracting what he had originally brought as an ace in the hole to establish his identity. It would now be his key to effecting the escape of the of the President, he hoped. And Catwoman. "This detonator is set to duplicate the effect of the original detonator. The Boomer foresaw such an event."  
  
"Ahh, The Boomer," the dark Nazi chimed in.  
  
"Yes. He foresaw that a duplicate detonator function might be required. Provide me with transportation immediately to where the American President and this ... this ... Catwoman," he spat out, "are. I shall soon have things in hand for I am False-Face, the leader of men."  
  
"Yes, Herr False-Face! Immediately." And the blond Goldstein executed a salute Batman had seen only in World War II movies, a salute he hoped would never again rule half the world or all of it.  
  
Trying to look bored rather than disgusted, Batman raised his right arm to chest level, palm outward. Then he walked on. He hoped he would "soon have things in hand."  
  
***  
  
"There's somebody coming," the President shouted.  
  
Selina Kyle left Sister Mary Albert and ran toward the barricade at the front doors. She dropped down on her knees to the floor beside the President. Her knees felt cold against the floor.  
  
The Nazis at the far end of the driveway, out of effective submachine-gun range, were flanking a single man.  
  
"Batman," she gasped.  
  
"You know that oddly dressed man, Miss Kyle?"  
  
"Yes, at least --" she hesitated.  
  
The man wearing the cape and cowl raised a bullhorn to his mouth. The voice carried a German accent. It was not Batman's voice. but somehow it was. "This is False-Face, Catwoman. Does my appearance startle you? Hmmm?" He laughed.  
  
There was silence.  
  
"What does he mean?" The President whispered.  
  
"He looks like -- like Batman," she said hoarsely. "But he sounds like --"  
  
"I've heard this False-Face is some sort of genius with disguises. Could it be a trick?"  
  
"I don't --" she started.  
  
"Fraulein, the game is up." The man who looked like the Caped Crusader from Gotham City, called himself False-Face and sound totally different from either lifted his right hand. Selina Kyle crawled on her knees to the opposite end of the barricade. She raised a telescope found in a fifth- grade classroom. She had used it earlier to watch the Nazis who surrounded them. She used it now to watch the man with the bullhorn. What he held in his upraised right hand could be a detonator.  
  
"I have the ability," the voice echoed over the bullhorn, "the ability to detonate the bomb with this, despite anything you may have done to it."  
  
She screamed so loudly her voice ached, "Then do it! And die, too!"  
  
"I have no wish to die, Catwoman, but I will, if necessary. Do you wish the children to die, Fraulein?"  
  
If it were Batman, what would he want her to say? And what if it were False- Face, using a different voice. "Go to hell!" she shouted, glancing impulsively behind her to Sister Mary Albert and seeing the look of disapproval in the woman's eyes.  
  
"Perhaps, we shall all go there together, Fraulein. I am coming inside. If there is an attempt to fire at me, I shall simply touch the detonator, and POOF!" He started forward, dismissively handing off the bullhorn to a slim man who stood shivering beside him.  
  
The moment she saw him walk, she knew. It was Batman. But how had he gotten here? The height, about six feet, two inches, was perfectly right. In his face she saw what she had always seen since the first time they met -- courage masked behind a tremendous inner strength.  
  
He was still walking toward her. The President was leveling a revolver across the barricade of lunchroom tables. "No, don't shoot him," she said.  
  
"Miss Kyle," replied the President, "he said he's False-Face. And he's got a detonator. I fired this pistol enough this morning to know how one of these shoots. I can hit that detonator, maybe."  
  
"And blow us all up if it is False-Face, or kill the only man who might get us all out of here alive if it isn't," argued Selina.  
  
"Who is this man -- I mean, who you think it is. Batman?"  
  
"Batman is a costumed crimefighter from Gotham City. I fell in love with him as he tried to arrest me after breaking into musuems and jewelry stores." Selina took some impish delight in shocking the President.  
  
"You what?"  
  
"I told you, I'm a jewel thief -- a burglar, I suppose."  
  
"And this Bat-Man, who does he work for? The police in Gotham City?"  
  
"He works with the police under a wink and a nod, if you will. Right now, he's working with the Justice Society of America. He has been hunting False- Face since the theft of the VX nerve gas canisters. I've been helping them as well."  
  
"In Gateway City and then in Florida?" the President interrupted.  
  
"Yes, that was him."  
  
"But, then, is this him? One of those so-called 'mystery men?'"  
  
She looked through the telescope. "I think it is. I don't know, but I think it is." She glanced back to Sister Mary Albert. "I pray it is."  
  
***  
  
Batman had lost count of the number of missed hours of sleep. The last word he had received about the takeover of the joint session of Congress was that throughout the early-morning hours, heavily armed groups of five to ten Nazis each had drifted into the Capitol. For the moment, there was no choice but to cooperate, the Masked Manhunter knew.  
  
He could see Selina's face now. He wanted to run to her. But he could not.  
  
Batman wondered if she realized that it was him and not False-Face in one of his endless disguises.  
  
There was a glint of glass from the hillside to his left, opposite the school and above. He knew who that was.  
  
He swallowed hard, his mouth dry, and walked ahead, holding the detonator.  
  
"Fraulein, shall I enter?" he called, stopping, affecting his German accent.  
  
"If you touch the detonator, you'll beat us all into death," she snapped.  
  
His lip twitched at her -- one of the reasons he finally concluded that he loved her, he realized, was because of her courage, her toughness. It made the gentleness beneath the facade that much better, that much sweeter.  
  
"I am coming in, then," and he started forward, both hands raised, the right holding the detonator.  
  
He saw the President of the United States. The familiar face now looked worn and drawn. The President was moving the table that blocked the left side of the entrance. A revolver jutted from his trouser band, and another was poised in his right hand.  
  
Batman stepped past, murmuring, "Mr President, this is an honor, sir," using his own voice.  
  
The President said nothing.  
  
Batman stared at Selina. "They said you used the name Sister Angelica. It seems to fit you."  
  
"Anyone could know that," she whispered. Her green eyes were like steel. A lock of black hair fell across her forehead, and she brushed it back from her face.  
  
"Then what should I say? Here, have the detonator. But don't destroy it. We'll need it."  
  
She didn't reach for the detonator. "Prove to me you are who you say you are -- I mean, who you say you are now."  
  
"I can't -- we don't have a bed."  
  
Her eyes flickered. "That's usually my line."  
  
Batman said, "There is one thing."  
  
"Tell me, then. I want it to be you," Selina said.  
  
He watched her eyes as he set down the detonator. "I found a triangular constellation of freckles underneath the bottom of your left knee the last time you had a scissor lock with your legs around my neck -- inside Peacock Jewelers on Prospect Street. And you told me --"  
  
"Never mind what I told you, but I meant it," and she ran into his arms. Batman squeezed her against him.  
  
The President of the United States walked forward after a second, extending his right hand. "I gather then, that you really are Batman."  
  
Still holding Selina, Batman nodded, unlimbering his right hand to shake hands with the President of the United States.  
  
"Yes, sir, that's me."  
  
To be continued ... 


	8. Chapter 8

JSA: The Face Of Evil  
  
By Bruce Wayne  
  
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters portrayed in this story are copyright by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit by the author.  
  
CHAPTER 8  
  
Batman stood near the barricade. The President of the United States stood near him by the front doors of the school, looking heroic, the Caped Crusader thought. It somehow seemed very appropriate. Selina sat at Batman's feet, curled up -- like a cat -- her legs tucked under her skirt.  
  
The detonator was on the table beside the public address system console.  
  
"Just what is that detonator if it isn't a detonator?" the President asked.  
  
"Push the button, Mr President -- go ahead."  
  
The President picked up the detonator. Hesitantly he pushed the button at the side. A voice crackled from the detonator -- "Hey, Batty, you got everything under control, buddy?"  
  
The President hit the button again, and the "detonator" turned off.  
  
"That was the Atom calling me," Batman explained. "He's expecting me to call him."  
  
"You've got gall, Batman," the President said as he smiled.  
  
Batman felt Selina's right hand squeeze harder against his left thigh.  
  
"Just what do we do now, Batman, if you don't mind my asking?"  
  
"No, sir, and I'm honored that you ask, sir. With your permission, I have a plan. And unless somebody can think of something else to do, it's the only one we've got, the only way to get out of here. But it's contingent upon one consideration."  
  
"Which is?"  
  
"We've got to disarm the bomb."  
  
"How?" It was Selina.  
  
Batman turned to her. "I'll take a look at it. I told my 'friends' outside I'd be a while negotiating your surrender."  
  
"And assuming we can disarm the bomb, what happens then?" the President asked.  
  
"Well, Mr President, I walk us out of here. I pretend to be False-Face, and you and Catwoman pretend to be my prisoners. But we've got to hurry. Last night they called a joint session of Congress because of the emergency your abduction precipitated, sir. And -- well --"  
  
"What?" the President insisted.  
  
"False-Face was disguised as the under secretary of agriculture, Dr Horn, and he has the entire Capitol building mined with VX nerve gas weapons. He detonated one large conventional bomb, I understand, in Nevada."  
  
"My God," Selina murmured.  
  
"The explosion went off harmlessly in a ghost town," Batman reassured her. "But he's holding the entire joint session hostage. He controls the entire United States government, and he thinks these clowns still have you."  
  
"Well, they do in a manner of speaking," Batman turned to look at the speaker. It was a chubby nun holding a submachine gun. "This is just for show," she said, smiling. "I use only chairs for weapons."  
  
"Oh." Batman nodded. "Of course." He decided that Selina had taken up with a strange crowd. He turned to the President. "I've got to see about that bomb now. I've had some experience with The Boomer's electronic marvels. Maybe I can do something with it."  
  
"Why don't we just destroy the detonator and be done with it?" It was the chubby nun again.  
  
Batman asnwered her. "Sister, it might be possible, but more likely. destroying the detonator would activate the timer in the bomb. And there's always the possibility, while the facility for exploding the bomb exists, that it could be detonated by some of the Nazis. They're not above suicide to further their cause."  
  
"God pity such demented minds," the nun spoke as she nodded soberly.  
  
"Yes," Batman answered as he started toward the bomb.  
  
The nuns and nearly all the children crowded around him as he detached a side panel from the rectangular case that held the bomb. Attached to the side was a five gallon canister that held the VX nerve gas. His hands eased up one side of the panel and then the other.  
  
For a bomb, it was beautifully constructed. Done with fine craftsmanship. One had to admire The Boomer -- he did great work. It also seemed impossible. There were even more wires in the device than in either of the highly sophisticated and complicated bombs he had encountered on the subway train in Gateway City and at NASA headquarters in Florida.  
  
Batman decided that he wasn't even going to try.  
  
"Catwoman, could you hand me my detonator on the table? I think I'm going to need a little help from my real friends," Batman said.  
  
Selina retrieved the handheld device and gave it to the Gotham Goliath.  
  
Batman pressed the button on the side. The voice crackled to life again. "Hey, Batty, what gives? Was that you who called before?"  
  
"We were just testing the communication device, Atom. I've looked at the bomb and it's a no-go. Has our 'special friend' arrived?"  
  
"Ya bet he did, Caped Crusader!" the cheery voice replied. "Ya want us to send him over?"  
  
"If you would, please."  
  
"Ya got it, Batty!"  
  
Batman clicked off the communication device/detonator.  
  
"What was that all about?" asked the President.  
  
But before Batman could answer the question, a swirl of smoke seemed to rise from the floor in the middle of the room and a man wearing gold and blue started to materialize. All of those who witnessed the dramatic entrance stood in awe.  
  
Batman simply said to the new arrival, "Doctor Fate, I presume."  
  
***  
  
"This is Doctor Fate, Mr President. He is another member of the Justice Society," Batman said as an introduction. "He is one of the most powerful of all known sorcerers, capable of virtually any kind of magical feat."  
  
The President shook Doctor Fate's hand. "I'm certainly glad that you're on our side, then."  
  
The gold metal helmet that Doctor Fate wore didn't allow anyone to see his facial features. He also wore a large, round, gold amulet around his neck. The gold cape seemed to make Doctor Fate larger than life.  
  
"I'm glad to be able to assist you, Mr President," the Man of Magic replied. The helmet made the sorcerer's voice sound somewhat muffled.  
  
Doctor Fate turned back to Batman and gestured to the table. "Is this the troubling device, Caped Crusader?"  
  
Batman nodded. "If you could just safely get rid of it for us, please?"  
  
Everyone could hear the smile in the voice of the mage as he replied, "It would be my pleasure. I will deposit it in deep space where it will be unable to do any harm to those, here, on earth."  
  
Doctor Fate stood next to the table with the bomb and nerve gas canister. He said to Batman, "I may have another mission to carry out, old friend. So, I may or may not see you later. If you require my assistance, just call."  
  
Batman nodded. "Thanks for coming now."  
  
Doctor Fate looked to all in the room who were staring at him. He looked first to his right and then to his left. The powerful sorcerer waved his arms in a dramatic fashion and white smoke from seemingly nowhere began to envelope him and the bomb. The smoke became so thick that both man and device were obscured. As quickly as the magical crimefighter had appeared, he was suddenly gone -- and so was the ever dangerous device that threatened everyone in Reddington, Illinois.  
  
***  
  
Selina walked slightly ahead of Batman. The President of the United States was between them as they headed away from the school building and toward the Nazis at the far end of the horseshoe-shaped driveway.  
  
Batman carried the phony detonator in his right hand. It was his flute, and he was the pied piper. But his followers were human vermin rather than rats.  
  
"All right, stop there!" Batman ordered in his best False-Face accent.  
  
The President, shoulders appropriately bowed, stopped and looked back at Batman. He was a good actor, the Caped Crusader thought. Selina stopped and looked directly at Batman. "And what now, Herr False-Face?" she asked.  
  
"That is none of your concern, Faulein," he told her pointedly. He walked past her to the frail blond Nazi named Goldstein. Batman handed him the detonator. Placing his right arm across Goldstein's shoulders, the Masked Manhunter from Gotham City began to walk the man away from the knot of other Nazis. "Earlier," he said in a low voice to Goldstein, "I was testing you. I sense that in you burns the fire of our cause."  
  
"Herr False-Face," Goldstein began, clearly pleased.  
  
"Please -- this detonator will function on time delay. You are to order all the men, except for three, who will stay behind with you, to accompany me in a convoy out of the city. Once we are clear of the town and at highway speed, activate this switch," and Batman showed him the button that would turn the radio on. "As soon as you activate this switch, you will have nine minutes to overtake the convoy and effect your own escape."  
  
"But Herr False-Face, the nerve gas --"  
  
"Once it is detonated, the Americans will know that I do not bluff. I will have their most important hostage, and other of my men will still control the joint session of Congress, which is the prisoner of our new Reich. Soon all elements of my master plan shall come to fruition."  
  
Batman tried to think how a power-mad Nazi butcher would speak. "This entire area will be covered with dead bodies -- a monument to those who might still be so foolish as to attempt to thwart our efforts." He clapped the man resoundingly on the back, then turned and walked away, calling over his shoulder, "You will have the presidential limousine brought here immediately for my use."  
  
The World's Most Dangerous Man -- as Superman described Batman -- stood by and watched, waiting, hearing the shouted orders as the limo was called up and three volunteers selected.  
  
Batman looked at the dark-haired Nazi. "You will take charge of the security detail that shall surround us as we leave the town. All our personnel, with the exception of Herr Goldstein and his three volunteers, will be part of the motorcade. This is clear?"  
  
"Yes, Herr False-Face," the dark-haired man responded, coming to attention.  
  
Batman nodded. "Excellent. Your efficiency will be remembered. Begin to prepare the motorcade at once. And then await my signal. We will maintain a constant speed of twenty miles per hour until we have left the confines of the town here. Once we have departed Reddington, you shall order that we accelerate to fifty miles per hour."  
  
"But, Herr False-Face, the military --"  
  
"They will draw back, because we have their President. That is what they must do!"  
  
"Yes, Herr False-Face."  
  
"Then be about your business," Batman nodded curtly. The dark-haired, solidly built Nazi raced away barking orders, shouting commands.  
  
Batman turned to Selina Kyle and the President of the United States. Under his breath he muttered, "So far, so good." At least he hoped so.  
  
Four Nazis and one automobile, to which they had access, remained in the town. Batman had ordered that none of the Nazis were to enter the school. That was to make certain that no one saw that the bomb was gone.  
  
The Caped Crusader looked at the hilltop overlooking the school, he knew a couple of his real friends -- the JSA kind -- was keeping him covered.  
  
Batman sat in the rear seat of the presidential limousine, behind the Nazi who drove. A second Nazi sat in the front passenger seat with the President behind him. Selina Kyle sat between Batman and the President.  
  
The limousine's windows were open, and the slipstream around them was cold even at their modest speed. Ahead, Batman could see a roadblock manned by U.S. Military Police. He leaned forward to the driver, saying, "Hand me the microphone unit for the PA system -- be quick about it."  
  
"Yes, Herr False-Face!"  
  
Batman took the microphone, tested the length of the cord and leaned back comfortably in his seat. A few remaining military units ringed the town, just as he had planned with General Pauley. The Masked Manhunter spoke into the microphone, hearing his own voice echo back from the concealed exterior speaker for the PA system. "This is False-Face. I am your master. I have your President. Unless you wish his life to be on your hands, you will withdraw and quickly."  
  
The motorcade had stopped.  
  
A field-grade officer standing beside a Military Police Jeep shouted through a bullhorn. "You heard the man! Withdraw to Point Bravo! Move out!"  
  
The officer threw his bullhorn into the back of the Jeep and got in after it. He executed a high-speed reverse, flick turning, and roared off down the road. The other military vehicles peeled off into a ragged convoy after the lead Jeep.  
  
Two hundred yards down the highway, the lead MP vehicle turned left, onto a side road, and continued on. The other vehicles turned after it, one after the other, with two tanks rolling at the end of the column.  
  
Batman estimated that the evacuation of the troops had taken some twenty minutes. The last of the tanks was invisible behind a dust cloud on the side road.  
  
The Gotham Goliath spoke into the microphone for the PA system again. "We will proceed along this road. Assume highway speed previously designated."  
  
The Nazi in the front passenger seat had a gun pointed at the President and Selina.  
  
The limousine began to roll ahead, and cold morning air streamed into the passenger compartment. Batman ordered, "You, driver. Raise the windows."  
  
"Yes, Herr False-Face."  
  
"And you, take this microphone," Batman commanded the second man. Not waiting for a second reply, he leaned forward, across Selina, shielding her from the muzzle of the gun with his own body, patially shielding the President, as well. The gunman reached across his left hand to take the microphone, leaving the gun resting on the seat back.  
  
"Even now, Herr Goldstein should be activating the detonator," Batman said to the man. Then in his own voice he added, "And I'm activating my own little detonator!" His left hand grabbed the gun and dropped it to the backseat floor. Batman grabbed the Nazi's head in his hands, twisted it so the man's face faced him and head-butted the thug hard. So hard, the man was knocked unconscious.  
  
Selina jumped behind the driver and wrapped her arm around the man's neck. The limousine swerved as the driver lost control of the vehicle.  
  
Batman threw himself over the front-seat back. His left hand wrenched at the door handle, while his right went for the wheel. The Caped Crusader threw his body weight against the driver as the door sprang outward, pushing the man into the road.  
  
His right hand fought the wheel, and the limousine sideswiped a pickup truck in front of it. The Nazis in the bed of the truck raised their weapons but hesitated to fire at the careering limousine.  
  
Batman's right foot found the brake pedal and tapped it as he cut the wheel away from the truck, then moved to the accelerator, stomping it to the floor. He was in the incoming lanes now, and the limousine's speedometer wavered over seventy.  
  
"Catwoman," shouted Batman, "get rid of the other guy. Mr President, please keep down. -- we got a ways to go yet!"  
  
Parts of the Nazi convoy were already in pursuit. Gunfire echoed from some of the trucks and cars, and lead pinged against the armor-plated body of the presidential limousine.  
  
Selina climbed into the front seat, and Batman felt the momentay rush of cold air as she shoved the unconscious Nazi gunman into the road.  
  
"Hang on," Batman told Selina and the President.  
  
He goosed the accelerator again, and the speedometer hit ninety.  
  
***  
  
The Atom and Mr Terrific watched the Nazi.  
  
The Nazi was frail, blond and very thin. He held binoculars to his eyes, looking down toward the road out of town.  
  
The Nazi dropped the binoculars, raising a device that was unmistakably a two-way radio. From his position perhaps fifty yards away, crouched in a bracken of northern pines was the two JSA members.  
  
Mr Terrific could hear the crackle of of static from the set. And he could hear the Nazi talking into it.  
  
"Get the car ready -- something has gone wrong with the presidential limousine. The troops have pulled back from ringing the city, but the limousine is racing away from the rest of the vehicles. It looks like two bodies have been pushed from the car. I'm activating the detonator now!"  
  
The Nazi threw down the radio set and raised the object that looked like a detonator from a flat rock beside him.  
  
The Atom raised a similar device to his lips.  
  
With a dramatic flair, the Nazi pushed the button on the side of what he thought was a detonator. He was quite startled when he heard a rather high- pitched male voice come from the device.  
  
"Hiya, buddy! It's time for you and your goose-stepping friends there to lay down your arms and give up! The jigg is up for you Nazis. You just lost the town and the President," The Atom informed the man over the radio.  
  
Mr Terrific and the Atom began to circle around the four remaining Nazis in an effort to come up from their rear.  
  
"W-who is ... is this?" the Nazi spoke back into the device.  
  
"Oh, we're just your worst nightmare, friend. Ya see, I don't like Nazis. I thought I fought enough of those guys about twenty years ago," the Atom continued. "And then, here come you losers -- back from the grave, so to speak. Well, we'll take care of that."  
  
The two crimefighters made quick progress and managed to sneak up behind the men who were very preoccupied with the radio communication conversation.  
  
Trying to maintain his composure, the frail Nazi asked again, "Bu-but w-who are you?"  
  
Coming out of the concealment of a row of hedges, the Atom proclaimed without the assistance of the radio, "We're from the Justice Society of America. You want to come along peacefully or perhaps ya like to scrap with us? Your choice, fellas."  
  
The Nazis raised their guns toward the heroes.  
  
The Atom dived right and Mr Terrific dived to his left.  
  
"I guess that's their answer!" The Atom yelled as bullets hit the ground where he once stood.  
  
Mr Terrific came out of the dive in a roll and with a tremendous amount of speed continued to approach the Nazis who were unable to acquire a good target on the red-and-green clad hero from Gateway City.  
  
One of the gunman took direct aim and Mr Terrific dived into a forward roll toward the would-be killer. The rifle shot just missed the crimefighter who tackled the Nazi hard and sent him to the ground.  
  
Because Mr Terrific was now entangled with one of the thugs, another Nazi heistated in firing toward the hero out of fear of striking his friend.  
  
Meanwhile, the Atom was confronting the appointed leader of the four Nazis, Goldstein, and a punch to the jaw sent the man into dreamland without too much of a problem.  
  
Trying to use his M-1 rifle like a club, one of the Nazi thugs tried to hit the Atom over the head. The diminutive crimefighter from Calvin City easily ducked the attack. Being only five-feet, one-inches in height actually worked to the Atom's advantage in this case. It made him a harder target to hit.  
  
The Atom rolled to ground and struck his opponent in the legs, bringing the man down to the ground. The blue-and-yellow costumed hero continued his roll and then jumped to his feet. Like a Mexican jumping bean, he leapt onto the back of the Nazi and began to pummel him into unconsciousness.  
  
Mr Terrific finished off the battle by grabbing both heads of his opponents and crashing them together. The two men crumpled to the ground.  
  
The battle for the town of Reddington was now over.  
  
"I suppose that takes care of that, Atom," Mr Terrific declared.  
  
"You betcha, 'errific, ol' buddy! Whatcha say we find ourselves a car and go chase that Nazi convoy down the road? I'm itchin' to clobber myself some more Nazis! I get dibbs on drivin'!"  
  
Mr Terrific just smiled at the enthusiasm of his fellow JSA teammate. But then the thought of driving in the same vehicle with the Atom -- and his known driving record -- crossed his mind.  
  
"Let's say we tie these four up before we go after the convoy, my friend."  
  
For many years afterward, the residents of the small town would speak of their terrible dilemma and tell how they were saved by the incredible costumed heroes of the Justice Society of America.  
  
To be continued ... 


	9. Chapter 9

JSA: The Face Of Evil  
  
By Bruce Wayne  
  
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters portrayed in this story are copyright by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit by the author.  
  
CHAPTER 9  
  
Selina Kyle looked out the rear window at the cars and trucks filled with 55 Nazi gunman who were now chasing them. Batman was driving the presidential limousine and first looked in the rearview mirror to see the same thing that Selina saw. He then looked at the speedometer -- it was holding at ninety.  
  
Two pickup trucks and a car were actually gaining on Gotham City's Caped Crusader and the Catwoman, who now had charge of the President of the United States in the armored vehicle.  
  
Men armed with assualt rifles and submachine guns were packed in the rear of the pickup trucks shooting at the limousine.  
  
Batman punched his foot against the gas pedal, but there was no more speed in the limousine. It was carrying too much armor plating, and it handled poorly, compared to the Batmobile. It had taken a long time to get the specially armored Cadillac up to highway speed.  
  
The nearer of the two pickup trucks was closing in on them.  
  
"What are we going to do?" Selina asked.  
  
"Something usually turns up," Batman replied.  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" she insisted.  
  
"We'll have to wait and see."  
  
"What?! I thought you had a plan?" she sneered.  
  
"I always do," he answered.  
  
Selina turned to look out the back window. Suddenly, there was a bright greenish glow that seemed to seperate the presidential limousine from its pursuers.  
  
A beam from the ring of the Green Lantern began to develop into what appeared to be green brick wall blocking the middle of the road. The Nazi vehicles were going too fast and were too close to avoid the immovable barricade.  
  
One of the pickup trucks exploded into several fragments, and the other truck swerved dangerously, cutting sharply to the right side of the road before slamming into the makeshift wall. Bodies were pitched from the open bed like trash blowing in the wind. The car came up fast and couldn't avoid the barricade. It smashed to a stop.  
  
The other cars and trucks in the Nazi convoy saw what happened and were able to slow down enough to avoid the same fate as the three lead vehicles.  
  
Batman brought the limousine to a stop and looked back to see what had happened. After momentarily looking at the wreckage, he picked up the radio microphone from under the dashboard. "Attack force -- move in," he said.  
  
***  
  
"Let's go!" Dr Mid-Nite shouted the words as he jumped into the Jeep beside Wildcat. "Hit the gas, Wildcat!"  
  
Wildcat already had the Jeep in motion, turning off the small side trail onto the dirt road. Following the heroes were Military Police in a number of other Jeeps.  
  
Dr Mid-Nite raised a hand microphone to his lips. "Come in, Atom. This is Mid-Nite. Go for it. Repeat, go for it!"  
  
"We're coming in, Doc, ol' buddy!" came the reply from the radio. Putting the microphone down, the Atom looked to his companion in the appropriated car from the town. "Step on it, 'rific! I'm not gonna miss this," Atom shouted.  
  
"Right you are, Atom," Mr Terrific laughed, cutting the wheel sharp right, swerving down the road at a high rate of speed.  
  
The Atom slammed his right fist into his open left palm with a resounding smack. "Let's give 'em hell!"  
  
***  
  
Batman looked at the remaining portion of the Nazi armada behind him. He could see a Jeep with the familiar figures of Wildcat and Dr Mid-Nite approaching from behind. He knew that the Atom and Mr Terrific would arrive soon, as well.  
  
Green Lantern gently floated to the ground, maintaining the conjured green wall between the presidential limousine and the Nazis.  
  
The Caped Crusader told the President and Selina Kyle to stay in the car as he got out to join the Emerald Warrior.  
  
Wildcat stopped his Jeep at the rear of the Nazi column. Dr Mid-Nite and himself jumped out of the vehicle and immediately began to engage with the nearest thugs.  
  
"Let's go!" Green Lantern shouted to Batman.  
  
One Nazi gunner jumped from the bed of a pickup and ran. Dr Mid-Nite clipped the fleeing man. The body sailed from the blow and bounced onto the hood of the Jeep, then crashed in front of the wheels. The man was down for the count.  
  
A dozen of the Nazis were together, fighting as a unit, hand to hand with Batman and Green Lantern. The Caped Crusader ran to the left flank of the criminals as Green Lantern kept his position between the limo and the Nazis.  
  
One ... two ... three of the thugs were dropped by Batman in quick order.  
  
One Nazi attempted to attack Batman with a bayonet while another jockeyed into position to fire his rifle. Green Lantern's power ring took care of the rifle by melting it into a puddle.  
  
Batman snapped out with a karate chop to the back of the bayonet man's head. The neck snapped with an audible crunch and the man fell to the ground unconscious.  
  
The Masked Manhunter stepped forward on his left foot, pivoting ninety degrees, until he was between Green Lantern and the second Nazi. He was in fluid motion, and he felt the would-be gunman fall away as his boot hit the man's chest.  
  
The Atom and Mr Terrific had joined Wildcat and Dr Mid-Nite at the rear of the column. The Atom wasted no time getting into the battle. He took out two gunman with a couple of devastating punches.  
  
Dr Mid-Nite and Wildcat teamed up to teach two more Nazi riflemen a lesson they soon wouldn't forget.  
  
Mr Terrific pressed his advantage and disarmed a pistol-wielding man and kicked the man in the crotch. "Not exactly 'Fair Play,'" he thought to himself. As his adversary doubled over, Mr Terrific unleased a vicious face slash with the back of his hand to the nose of the Nazi. The thug fell at his feet, and Mr Terrific stepped away, searching for a new opponent.  
  
Army vehicles were now approaching the scene of the carnage. Their job was to mop up and take custody of the prisoners.  
  
Batman looked around. There was no more fighting. Wildcat let go of a body and it sagged to the ground like a sack of onions.  
  
Dr Mid-Nite stood still, bodies flanking him.  
  
Green Lantern looked around, his eyes flickered from the side to side, seeing no more opponents.  
  
The situation in and now near Reddington was under control, thanks to the efforts of the JSA. False-Face, Batman thought, was next.  
  
***  
  
Batman stood beside one of the tanks. His Justice Society teammates were surrounding him. Selina Kyle had returned to the town to attend to the welfare of the nuns and the children. It was a side of her that the Gotham Avenger had never seen, a human side.  
  
The crimefighters were alone now with the President of the United States.  
  
In the distance stood the Air Force sergeant with the nuclear codes that were referred to as the "football."  
  
"Gentlemen," said the President. "I've seen what I need to. They had me trapped -- your Miss Kyle got me out of that. And you all got us out of that mess in the school. If anybody should take charge of whatever operation we can mount against False-Face to free those present at the joint session, it should be you gentlemen."  
  
"I know a lot of people in the government who aren't going to like that," Batman replied.  
  
"I'll tell you something, Batman," the President smiled. "When my administration took office, I was faced with two choices. Either participate in a doomed popularity contest and bring back rack and ruin to the greatest nation on the face of the earth, or do what I thought was right for the American people, the American system of government. I chose the latter --" and he grinned. "I was elected to elect that, if you get my meaning, and I haven't regretted it yet. Right now, the right choice is the Justice Society of America. You've dealt with False-Face, defeated him before --"  
  
"We only stalled him, Mr President," Dr Mid-Nite interrupted. "He got away from us in Gateway City, then in London and again in Florida."  
  
"But you stopped him," the President said. "And I'm going to gamble on all of you doing it this time. You can have all the support you want, all you need, all I can give you. We can't accede to False-Face's demands, whatever they'll be. We can't let him walk away from this either. Alive or dead, he's got to be stopped."  
  
"He'll never be taken alive, Mr President. But maybe we can stop him," Batman responded.  
  
"You'll have carte blanche."  
  
The Atom chimed in, "Gee -- thanks. Can I have a credit card, too?" He laughed at his own joke, such as it was.  
  
The Justice Society of America had been charged with the most important task in the history of the American government -- to save it from a man who held it hostage, a man who seemed almost inhumanly evil.  
  
***  
  
"Is that you, Colonel Flagg?"  
  
Colonel Sam Flagg stepped closer to the closed-circuit television camera in the temporary war room he had set up in the Ways and Means Committee office. The irony of the choice had not been lost on him at the time.  
  
He could see False-Face on the black-and-white television monitor. The man looked identical to the vanished -- and, Flagg presumed, dead -- under secretary of agriculture.  
  
And False-Face could now see him, he knew, through a similar closed-circuit setup that the villian had insisted be installed.  
  
"Yes," he told the camera, looking at his monitor to see False-Face. "I'm Colonel Sam Flagg, retired. I'm a case officer with the Central Intelligence Agency. I've been working on your case."  
  
"Good. Please rest assured that dealing with an inferior does not offend me. I'll take things appropriately slowly for you." False-Face smiled.  
  
Flagg gritted his teeth. Right now, he was in charge of efforts to stop this Nazi maniac until some final plan was formulated.  
  
"I'm glad it doesn't bother you, False-Face. "I'll do the best I can to keep up with you."  
  
"Excellent. I'm glad to hear that. Should I momentarily forget your name while we speak, I'll simply call you 'idiot' -- I'm sure you've answered to that many times. Is that correct?"  
  
False-Face was waiting, Flagg realized, for the answer he wanted. Flagg gave it to him. "I've been called that before, False-Face."  
  
"Good, why don't we proceed, then. These are my demands. Please don't forget any. If they are not met promptly and to the letter, many people will die in various parts of the world. Millions of people will die. I will read a list of names shortly. After that I will read a list of atomic weapons sites throughout the United States and the Soviet Union. The men whom I name will soon arrive at these locations. They are to be given control of these installations. Once these locations are completely under the control of my personnel, the hostages in Reddington will be released unharmed. For I will dominate the entire earth through the threat of the ultimate atomic holocaust. Were you able to follow that, idiot?"  
  
Colonel Flagg raged inside. "May I make a personal note, False-Face?"  
  
"By all means, please do."  
  
"I hope I live to piss on your grave."  
  
False-Face only laughed, then began to read his list of names. Six reel-to- reel tape recorders recorded it all, in addition to two stenographers. Colonel Flagg stood there listening hoping that the costumed heroes of the Justice Society of America could make it back to Washington in time to stop this Nazi madman.  
  
To be continued ... 


	10. Chapter 10

JSA: The Face Of Evil  
  
By Bruce Wayne  
  
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters portrayed in this story are copyright by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit by the author.  
  
CHAPTER 10  
  
It had been the fastest trip the President of the United States had ever made to Washington, courtesy of the Green Lantern's power ring. The capabilities of the Emerald crimefighter's ring was practically limited to only the wearer's imagination. This time, the Green Lantern had fashioned a large makeshift rocket for the President's entourage and the JSA members, along with Catwoman.  
  
They arrived at the Capitol building and began to meet with other officials in the Congressional Ladies' Reading Room. The room was within easy reach of Statuary Hall, which fed directly into the House chambers. The far side of Statuary Hall and the House chambers themselves were occupied by False- Face and his men, while the offices of the Committee on Ways and Means were occupied by Colonel Flagg and his crisis management team, whose principal task now was to keep False-Face happy.  
  
A note had been sent to Flagg outlining the JSA's role in the anti-False- Face operation. Scrawled across it when it been returned was the single word, "Bullshit!" and then beneath that, "Good Luck." The note had been passed through an outside window to avoid interception by any of the Nazis inside the building itself.  
  
With Batman, Catwoman, Wildcat, Dr Mid-Nite, Green Lantern, Mr Terrific, the Atom, the President, General Pauley and the various aides, all eyes suddenly turned to Wonder Woman as she made her entrance into the room. The beauty and grace of the woman dressed in the red-white-blue- and gold costume impressed everyone.  
  
"I arrived as soon as I could. I'm happy to help in anyway I can," the Amazon female said.  
  
"Wonder Woman," Batman began, "we're happy you're here. We certainly can use all the help we can get to stop this madman."  
  
The tall brunette superhero nodded and then looked into the grim faces of everyone in the room.  
  
"What is the plan, Caped Crusader?" Wonder Woman asked.  
  
"This'll be split into three basic operations, each one backing up the other," said Batman as he walked to the diagram of the Capitol building that had been taped to the long western wall of the Ladies' Reading Room. "We'll need someone to guide Dr Mid-Nite, Green Lantern, and the Atom into the tunnel complexes under the Capitol itself."  
  
"Ya want us to secure the bombs and nerve gas down there, right, Batty?" the Atom interjected.  
  
"You've got it." Batman nodded.  
  
"And you want me and my power ring to get them out of there," Green Lantern said.  
  
Batman nodded once more. "The three of you should be able to handle whatever is down there. There are probably a number of Nazis guarding the weapons. False-Face indicated earlier that each one of the devices is guarded by some of his people. We, of course, don't know if that's true or not."  
  
Dr Mid-Nite spoke, "I checked with Capitol security. Of the one hundred Nazis allowed inside, some two dozen disappeared under the Capitol structure itself."  
  
Batman nodded. "All right, then, he's telling the truth."  
  
"You want us to try to take them out man by man and neutralize the bombs," Green Lantern began.  
  
"Yes," Batman interrupted, "but that won't do all the good you think it will. If we miss only one device, we're up a creek as long as False-Face has the detonator. And he purportedly has more of the weapons planted around the Capitol."  
  
"How many of these devices are left?" Wildcat asked.  
  
"Nintey-six, Wildcat, each laced with VX nerve gas," Mr Terrific replied. "It's not the explosion itself that will kill people. It'll be the spread of a cloud of nerve gas that could possibly kill every man, woman and child in Washington."  
  
Batman growled at the thought of that happening.  
  
Wonder Woman closed her eyes tight for an instant and then reopened them, contemplating the thought of such a holocaust.  
  
Selina cleared her throat. Batman looked at her. She had changed from the borrowed nun's habit to a pleated light-blue plaid skirt and a light-blue sweater she had liberated from Reddington's only women's clothing store. "What is it, Catwoman?"  
  
"I think there's something I should tell you. All of you. But I don't know how to say it -- especially to you," and she looked at Batman.  
  
Batman, his voice low, almost whispered, "Tell me, anyway. If it has to do with this, tell me now." He watched as she stared down at her hands.  
  
"Tell me now," he repeated.  
  
She looked up at her longtime adversary in both crime and love. The greeness of her eyes was muted. "There is a scar," she began, "on the left side of False-Face's neck. It is in the shape of a lightning bolt. He knows that I've seen it, and I think that's why he didn't kill me."  
  
Batman shook his head. "I don't understand. What's some scar got to --"  
  
She shook her head. "Let me finish."  
  
Batman nodded.  
  
She went on, "I grew up in a fractured home in Gotham City. My mother was cold and distant, loving only her myriad cats and her dreams of wealth and luxury. She committed suicide when I was young. As I grew up, I became more and more like my mother, much to my father's chagrin. My brother and I --"  
  
"You have a brother?" Batman interrupted.  
  
"Let me finish," Selina Kyle insisted. "My father was an alcoholic and died a few years later, when I was twelve. My brother and I became street kids, learning how to steal for our survival. Within a week I was caught and thrown into a home for delinquent girls. But instead of enjoying the safety and guidance a home should provide, I suffered physical and verbal abuse from the women who ran it."  
  
She paused for a moment and then continued, "My life on the streets and in the girls' home drilled two things into my head: one, I could only trust myself; two, stealing is the quickest and easiest way to live."  
  
Selina looked up at the crimefighters, knowing that they all disapproved of what she just said.  
  
"Theft became my career of choice, and even as a girl in the orphanage, I'd slip out a window at night to hone my gymnastics and speed on the rooftops. After I finally escaped the home, I made a living on the streets, stealing full-time with my brother, at times."  
  
She exhaled a breath. "One day, my brother Karl caught his neck on barbed wire -- he was trying to get over a security fence. He slipped while climbing over the fence and fell against the barbed wire. It ripped a huge gash here," she gestured diagonally on her own neck with the fingers of her left hand, from just behind the base of the ear downward almost to the center of the throat.  
  
"He almost bled to death. I took him to a hospital. It was 1944. Then or around that time. The police were called in and arrested him for being wanted in a number of robberies and burglaries. He went to jail and that was the last I saw of him."  
  
"What does all this have to do with False-Face, Catwoman?" Dr Mid-Nite asked. "Time is short."  
  
She looked at him and cleared her throat again. "I'm almost finished, but you all must understand it -- especially you," and her eyes flickered toward Batman.  
  
"Something must've happened to my brother while in prison. Around 1947, I had heard he had escaped and was never seen again. I didn't know if he was dead or alive."  
  
"What does this European Nazi have to do with your brother and you?" Green Lantern asked her, his voice low, deeper sounding than it was usually, Batman thought.  
  
"False-Face is not really of European descent. He's an American. Why or how he became a Nazi, I don't really know," she explained.  
  
"False-Face is your brother, isn't he?" Batman whispered.  
  
Selina looked at him. "False-Face's scar is the same wound I saw on the neck of my brother. I know what his real face looks like!"  
  
"But that was nearly twenty years ago, Catwoman," Mr Terrific interjected.  
  
Selina looked at Mr Terrific and smiled at him. "No, I mean it, it was that long ago, but he was the perfect likeness of my father. He would not have changed. I have pictures of my father at --"  
  
"We could get the Flash to get them," said Wildcat quickly. "He can search her place, grab the photos and get them here faster than anyone."  
  
Batman stood in front of Selina. "If you can help us flesh out what False- Face really looks like, the plan I've formulated has a better chance of working." And then the Gotham Goliath looked to everyone in the room. "Remember the rave reviews I got in Reddington when I played False-Face?"  
  
The President, sitting on a long couch, grinned, nodding.  
  
The Atom spoke up, "This isn't Broadway, Batty. But you'll have a packed house."  
  
***  
  
General Pauley was martialing military forces -- if Batman's plan worked, the Masked Manhunter had told Pauley, a military backup force would be vital. Green Lantern had picked up Hourman and flew him to Washington. He insisted on being part of the takedown of False-Face.  
  
Hourman had a right to insist on playing a part in the demise of False- Face. The entire episode started with False-Face stealing one hundred canisters of the VX nerve gas that Rex Tyler was transporting for the U.S. government.  
  
All the heroes were occupied with a variety of tasks now, and alone in the Ladies' Reading Room, Batman was with Catwoman. He stared at the plans for the Capitol building, which dominated the western wall of the room. He closed his eyes at last, his head aching from staring at them, from wondering.  
  
"Are you disappointed in me?"  
  
It was the first Selina Kyle had spoken since she had concluded the story and had branded False-Face as her brother, Karl.  
  
"No, I'm not disappointed with you. Why should I be? You've helped us all along with this case. I get disappointed when you steal," he told her.  
  
"Well, having False-Face for a brother isn't exactly a ticket to social success."  
  
"You're not a disappointment to me at all. But I've got to ask you a question -- I mean I'd like to," Batman said to her.  
  
"All right."  
  
"If False-Face didn't keep you alive as a wedge against me," Batman said, "and didn't know you knew his true identity, then why did he let you live?"  
  
"I think he wanted me to know eventually, and then to savor killing me. He was always very strange. Maybe he wanted to torture me first, or something. I don't know."  
  
"He'll be dead tonight," Batman told her. "I don't think any jail could hold him. Do you understand that? I don't think he'll be taken alive. Do you understand what will probably happen tonight? He's still your brother."  
  
"People die, Batman. I know you won't kill him with your hands but I realize that something terrible will probably occur tonight."  
  
"Probably," Batman nodded. He couldn't dwell on what may happen to surface. Those types of feelings might make him hestitate, and in the field to hesitate is to die.  
  
"Sometimes," she continued, "though, you know that it's right, that you did something that needed to be done."  
  
"Did I hear you right?" he asked. "You're supposed to be a rogue."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she smiled. "But that's how I feel. I've always felt that way. Don't put me in the same category with the Joker, the Riddler and the rest of those crazies."  
  
There was a moment of silence between the two and then Selina spoke again. "I went to Haiti once, and some of the people in the countryside insist that the dead can be made to walk, that there are zombies. They look human, can perform human tasks, eat and drink and sleep. But inside they aren't human anymore. That is Karl -- or False-Face. Dead inside. If you kill the body he uses, you kill something that is already dead."  
  
Batman knew that it was up to the JSA to stop False-Face. Otherwise, there were going to be an awful lot of people dead.  
  
To be continued ... 


	11. Chapter 11

JSA: The Face Of Evil  
  
By Bruce Wayne  
  
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters portrayed in this story are copyright by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit by the author.  
  
CHAPTER 11  
  
The interior dome of the Capitol building soared more than one hundred eighty feet -- about 18 stories -- above them as Batman and Wildcat entered the Rotunda. Wonder Woman stood at the center of the huge area beneath the dome on a mosiac floor of various shades of gray. As the Caped Crusader shouldered through the knot of people in the room, he called to the Amazon princess. "Is everything ready here?"  
  
As Batman reached the center of the floor space, Wonder Woman, nodded in reply to the Masked Manhunter's question.  
  
Batman turned to the Green Lantern, Doctor Mid-Nite, and the Atom. "Okay, Doctor Mid-Nite's gotten together with the custodial staff and Capitol security and will give each of you maps of the old tunnel underneath the Capitol. The tunnel entrances will probably be heavily guarded by False- Face's men. But you can get into the tunnels through a ventilation shaft that was built toward the end of the last century to draw cool air into the structure, a kind of primitive air conditioning system. There's an old ladder running down into it, and the shaft connects into the main system of tunnels. Doctor Mid-Nite is uniquely suited for this mission because he can see in the dark."  
  
"Quite," Mid-Nite acknowledged.  
  
Batman nodded. "So the Doctor will lead the two of you through the tunnels. You also have some of your Blackout Bombs, Doc?"  
  
Mid-Nite nodded.  
  
"Atom, you'll carry a radio so that we can keep in contact."  
  
"Alrighty, Batty."  
  
"Remember," Batman continued, "you'll have to operate in darkness so that you don't tip our hand. I don't want one of those Nazis down there detonating one of the devices because he figures the jig is up. Mr Terrific and I will begin our part of the operation in a few minutes. We'll need a lot of time to prepare -- so you three have plenty of time to carry out your part of the mission. I figure in about three hours and fifteen minutes from now, I'm going into the House chamber with Mr Terrific. We need those bombs and the Nazis guarding them neutralized by that time."  
  
Wonder Woman said to the three crimefighters who would be going into the tunnels, "If you get trapped in the tunnels, and we are successful in stopping this terrible man, I'll personally rip out the floors of this place to dig you out. A lot of those tunnels are falling apart and could cave in at any time, they tell me."  
  
"Well, if we don't pull this off," Green Lantern remarked, "it won't matter."  
  
"Any questions?" Batman asked.  
  
Wildcat stepped forward. "What is it that you and Mr Terrific are going to prepare for?"  
  
"We're going to pull a trick out of False-Face's book and use makeup to disguise ourselves. We're awaiting supplies from a theatrical supply shop, here, in D.C." Batman explained. He looked to Doctor Mid-Nite, Green Lantern, and the Atom. "You three better get going."  
  
His face more sober-looking than Batman had ever seen it, Doctor Mid-Nite adjusted the goggles over his eyes, and very quietly said, "Yes, I guess we'd better."  
  
***  
  
Batman, Mr Terrific, the President of the United States, a leaner and haggard-looking Hourman and Selina Kyle were in the Congressional Ladies' Reading Room. With them was a deliveryman from the District of Columbia Theater Products Company. The delieveryman was small and wiry, no more than five-feet six or so, and his brown curly hair was touched with gray and receded at the temples despite the obviousness of his age -- about thirty, Batman judged.  
  
There was a solidness and resonance to his voice as he spoke. "I've never had a call for a delivery to the President of the United States before. At first, I thought it was a gag." He gestured toward a huge black case partially open at the top. "-- I brought a professional makeup case, threw in everything I thought you could possibly use. You guys know much about theater makeup?"  
  
Batman replied, "I've had some experience."  
  
"As well as I," Mr Terrific said.  
  
After the delieveryman left, Batman said to everyone that was still in the room, "I need to be able to walk into the House chamber wearing one face and beneath that wear the face Catwoman says belongs to False-Face. And it has to be good enough to shock False-Face long enough for Mr Terrific, who will be disguised as the President, or for me to get hold of that detonator. And afterward, I'd like to be able to remove False-Face's face and have my own back, such as it is."  
  
Selina's eyes searched Batman's face. She picked up the photo that had been hand delivered by the Flash moments earlier to the Capitol building. It was a photo of Selina's father -- and as Selina had said, exactly what False- Face would look like.  
  
Mr Terrific's eyes flicked to Batman. "I think we can do it. In order to protect our secret identities we'll need to keep this room cleared and Hourman you'll stand guard, my friend."  
  
"You got it, Terrific. No one will get past me through that door." Hourman said.  
  
The President and Selina left the room followed by Hourman, who closed the door and stood in front of it outside the room.  
  
"Okay," Mr Terrific said to Batman, "if we work together, we can cut the time down."  
  
"Two hours and fifty-three minutes, Terrific," Batman announced looking at the clock on the wall.  
  
From the nearby bathroom, Mr Terrific filled a glass with warm water.  
  
"I guess we'll begin," he said.  
  
From the black case, Mr Terrific pulled out what looked like a roll of thin bandage material. "Batman, you can take this roll of plaster bandage and begin cutting it into six-inch strips with these scissors, then reroll each strip."  
  
"I've done this before many times, Terrific," Batman informed him.  
  
"Yes, sorry, I forgot that you've dabbled with disguises in the past."  
  
"More than merely 'dabbled,' I assure you."  
  
Mr Terrific nodded somberly and yelled to the door, "Hourman!"  
  
The door opened and Hourman peeked his head through the doorway with a quizzical look on his cowled face.  
  
"I need some containers, Hourman. The containers should be the size of a pan you'd make spaghetti in and filled with water. Two will do. Have someone get that."  
  
Hourman said, "I'll have someone try the Senate restaurant," and closed the door.  
  
Mr Terrific turned to Batman. "Okay, I'll do you first and then you can do me. Go into the bathroom and scrub your face with soap and water, then rinse it very, very well. If they have one of those blower hand dryers in there, use it to dry your skin -- especially get the eyebrows. Okay?"  
  
"I know the routine, Terrific," Batman said in a slightly irritated voice.  
  
"We're going to make a life mask," Mr Terrific announced.  
  
"I know," Batman said in an exasperated tone.  
  
As Batman started off to the bathroom, he pulled off his cowl and cape.  
  
Mr Terrific took a blue container from the makeup kit. The container was labeled Plaster of Paris.  
  
***  
  
Colonel Flagg studied the face on the television screen. He had never thought he could come to hate someone so much.  
  
False-Face was talking. Like any other mastermind villian, he seemed to like to talk, to parade his power and to sneer.  
  
"And so, you have reports for me dealing with the placement of my personnel?"  
  
"We have contacted the governments concerned. The French are as yet unwilling to cooperate. The British Parliament is meeting in emergency session. The Russians haven't said anything yet. And no reply from the Chinese as of yet, either. You must give us more time."  
  
"I cannot give you more time, Colonel Flagg. I have ordered my men in Reddington, Illinois, to detonate the device there and kill your President at precisely six A.M. Eastern Time. That is slightly more than two hours from now. At seven, if my demands have not been met, the bombs laced with VX nerve gas will be exploded in major population centers in each of the countries that failed to cooperate. At eight, if my demands have still not been met, I shall consider the operation a failure. And since I cannot tolerate failure, I shall activate this switch and destroy all of Washington. Almost immediately thereafter all the major population centers of the countries I've named will suffer the same devastation. I would suggest that you encourage the reluctant heads of state to acquiesce."  
  
"I shall try, False-Face, I certainly shall try," Flagg told the camera, still watching False-Face's face on the closed-circuit monitor.  
  
"Then I'd suggest, also, that we terminate this conversation so you can be about your work."  
  
"Yes. False-Face, I was about to suggest that myself." Flagg turned away from the screen and walked to his desk. As he sat down, he felt his face seam with a grin. Under his breath, he muttered, "That madman doesn't know we got the President out alive!"  
  
***  
  
Doctor Mid-Nite adjusted the elastic that held the goggles over his eyes. He crawled ahead of Green Lantern and the Atom along the ventilation shaft, following the brightly drawn markings on the map. Dirt filtered down from tunnel supports and seams in the tube of the tunnel itself. Mid-Nite couldn't be quite certain he knew just what the tunnel walls and floor and ceiling were made of. He kept moving.  
  
Behind him he heard the Atom rasp, "Doc, how much farther?"  
  
"I don't know how much farther, Atom. I'll let you know when we get there."  
  
Mid-Nite continued to crawl ahead.  
  
A few yards farther on he stopped to check the map. "This is it! Just ahead and to the right," he whispered hoarsely to the crimefighters behind him.  
  
A wooden panel formed part of the tunnel wall on his right.  
  
"Atom, come up here and rip this panel off for me," Mid-Nite asked the stronger of the three men. Green Lantern's power ring wouldn't work against anything made of wood.  
  
Doctor Mid-Nite anticipated that the sound of forcing the door would make noise and alert the Nazis. Nevertheless, it had to be done.  
  
The Atom began the task. The boards were placed horizontally and crumbled as he pried at them with his hands. Dry rot, he guessed, for the tunnel seemed devoid of moisture.  
  
The Atom hammered at the base of the door with his right fist again and again until the board loosened. Then he set his hands to it and tugged. The board snapped loudly in the otherwise almost total stillness.  
  
The opening was large enough to crawl through. Doctor Mid-Nite turned to Green Lantern and whispered, "We're coming in almost directly opposite the main entrance to the tunnel network. So we should be able to come up behind them. If we didn't alert them with all this noise and we maintain complete silence from now on -- well, we'll see, I suppose."  
  
Doctor Mid-Nite crawled past the Atom and began to lead the way once more. The three members of the Justice Society of America moved through the darkness in the bowels of Capitiol building into the unknown.  
  
***  
  
"What the hell's that stuff doing?" Batman asked Mr Terrific.  
  
"Chemical change, just relax. My own special formula." Mr Terrific was working soap into Bruce Wayne's eyebrows.  
  
Batman sat in an overstuffed chair, watching his face in a mirror.  
  
"I think you'll be surprised with how well this works." Mr Terrific smiled. "At least I hope you will, Bruce. The reason for the soap is so that when I pull the plaster of Paris away, I won't rip your eyebrows out. You'd probably find that awfully painful."  
  
"I might at that." Batman nodded.  
  
"Try not to move your face. Get used to it before I put the plaster on." Mr Terrific wiped his hands on a towel, turned away for a moment and then turned back with a jar of Vaseline. "Now this is to protect your face from the plaster and also to lubricate it so the plaster can be removed and won't stick to your skin." He began rubbing Vaseline into Batman's face as he watched in the mirror.  
  
"Is this how False-Face -- yuck --" Batman got a mouthful of Vaseline when he moved.  
  
"Here take a tissue," and Mr Terrific handed one to Batman. "You just let me do the talking, Caped Crusader. From the way I see False-Face, I don't think he uses life masks. There's a certain degree of movement possible, but there's some movement that isn't possible. He probably uses the technique we'll employ to build your False-Face face over your face." Mr Terrific looked away. "This photo of Catwoman's father is old. So I'm going to do the best I can to blend in the facial details and coloring."  
  
Mr Terrific finished with the Vaseline. He said, "Okay, I've got about as many six-inch strips of plaster bandage that I need. I'm going to roll and soak them. After that, I'll squeeze them as nearly dry as I can and put them on your face. I'll have to work fast."  
  
"Maybe you should have the Flash help you," Batman suggested.  
  
"Good idea. Hourman!"  
  
The yellow and black cowl of the Man of the Hour peeked through the slightly open door again. "You rang, Terrific?"  
  
"Yes, tell Flash I need him to help me for a few moments."  
  
Hourman nodded and closed the door.  
  
Obviously, it took the Flash only moments to respond. Mr Terrific explained what needed to be done.  
  
Mr Terrific dipped his hands into the plaster mixture. He said to Batman, "Now, don't talk -- don't move a muscle. Keep your eyes closed. A lot of people use drinking straws in the nostrils so they can breathe, but I never do. I'll see that you can breathe. Just follow my directions, and we can get it done right the first time."  
  
Batman closed his eyes as the warm plaster was slathered over his left cheek.  
  
***  
  
Doctor Mid-Nite inched forward on his stomach. He could see clearly in the dark, and he thought he had seen a man at the edge of a bright glow. He crept toward it. After a moment, he edged back on his haunches, his back hurting as he moved from being cramped over for so long.  
  
He edged toward his enemy, watching how he was handling the M-1 rifle he carried. At the edge of the circle of light cast by a lamp he saw movement. He froze.  
  
"Peter," said a voice, "how do you think it goes for Herr False-Face?" The English carried a heavy German accent.  
  
"I do not know, Arnie," a French-accented voice answered in English. "I do not know."  
  
"Do you think that we all shall die?" the German asked anxiously.  
  
"I am ready to die for what Herr False-Face has told us. But I hope we do not."  
  
Doctor Mid-Nite could see the men quite clearly. He decided that the first man he would take out would be the German, Arnie. Peter, the Frenchman, would be second.  
  
The JSA's master of darkness worked his way laterally, to the far left of the tunnel. Dirt drifted down onto his face from where the timbers met whatever lay overhead in the darkness.  
  
He rested his back against the tunnel wall. Moving ever so slowly he crept up toward the two men.  
  
On the opposite wall, away from Dr Mid-Nite, a green circle of light was projected on the wall and caught the attention of the two guards. They turned to see what it was. In doing so, they turned their backs to Doctor Mid-Nite and that was all the diversion he needed to jump into action.  
  
The German went down first with a heavy blow to the back. The Frenchman spun around to see what happened and Doctor Mid-Nite slammed him into the wall of the tunnel.  
  
The German started to rise, but the Atom, who had come to assist, crashed the lamp over the man's head -- knocking him unconscious.  
  
A punch to the stomach and then a right cross to the chin put Peter out for the count.  
  
Green Lantern, using his power ring as a flashlight, joined his two companions. He stooped beside the fallen men, carefully checking each body.  
  
"Grab that rope over there, Doctor! Let's tie these two up," the Emerald Warrior instructed.  
  
The Atom took out a radio he was carrying from the right side of his belt. "This is the Atom. We took two down. Looking for more -- out."  
  
Doctor Mid-Nite saw a crate nearby. He was certain that would contain a bomb. He pointed to the crate.  
  
The Atom got back on the radio. "We found one of the bombs! Green Lantern will be removin' it now!"  
  
Green Lantern's power ring encapsuled the crate into what appeared to be a glowing green bubble.  
  
"Will ya be gone long, Lantern?" the Atom asked.  
  
"I'll fly this out into outer space where it won't be able to do any harm, my friend."  
  
Doctor Mid-Nite had a question of his own, "You'll be able to find us, when you come back?"  
  
"Yes, Doctor. If the two of you can standby for just a few moments, I don't think this will take long."  
  
Upstairs in the Congressional Ladies' Reading Room, Batman looked at the clock on the wall. In just over two two hours he was going to walk into the House chambers to bluff False-Face.  
  
To be continued ... 


	12. Chapter 12

JSA: The Face Of Evil  
  
By Bruce Wayne  
  
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters portrayed in this story are copyright by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit by the author.  
  
CHAPTER 12  
  
"Now bend over and blow through your lips," Batman heard Mr Terrific saying. "Come on, Bruce, do it now!" The Gotham Avenger felt Mr Terrific's hands near his throat. "I'm pulling this off from your chin. Blow through your lips. Don't hyperventilate. Blow against the mask."  
  
Batman blew. He felt as though his skin were tearing away. Tiny hairs near his sideburns were ripped out of his face.  
  
He blinked. The pressure was suddenly gone from his eyes, and the light was blindingly bright.  
  
"It looks like a good one, Batman. You can rest easy now," Mr Terrific said.  
  
Batman leaned back in the chair.  
  
Mr Terrific turned to the Flash. "Flash, in that box you'll see Derma Wax. If you'd start working it in your hands, then we can get -- Oh, I see you've done it already -- damn, you're fast!" He laughed. "I need it rolled into soda-straw-sized lines, so -- done already? Okay, I can start building False-Face's face onto Batman."  
  
Mr Terrific turned back to Batman. "This is spirit gum," he said, producing another container from the makeup kit. "It'll sting your skin and make your eyes water a little -- it contains ether. Don't worry about it."  
  
"I've used it before," Batman said in a bored tone.  
  
It did sting, and Batman's eyes did begin to water. "Now you're going to look stupid for a while," Mr Terrific continued. "I'm applying cotton to your face to stick to the spirit gum, so your head is going to look like a giant cotton ball for a few minutes. Just relax."  
  
Batman only nodded, resigned to this situation and listening to the all knowing Mr Terrific lecture him on applying theater makeup. Truth be told, Batman was master of disguise as well, and had used many of these same makeup techniques several times in the past.  
  
When the bulk of the cotton was removed, his complexion had the look of peach fuzz.  
  
Mr Terrific was laying into place the strips of Derma Wax. "This is just like being a sculpter working in clay," he commented. "Something I've done many times, I'll have you know."  
  
"Of course, you have," the Flash snickered.  
  
Batman watched the changes in the shape of his own face in the mirror.  
  
Mr Terrific continued with his dissertation, "I use the tools of a sculptor to shape the nose, the cheekbones, everything, to get it as possible to the face of False-Face."  
  
Looking at the picture of Catwoman's father, the Flash said, "The nose should be thinner."  
  
"Thinner? At the bridge, you think?" asked Mr Terrific.  
  
"Yes. Like that, I believe."  
  
Mr Terrific nodded and his thumbs and fingertips molded the Derma Wax against Batman's face.  
  
Batman exhaled hard, asking, "You going to add skin texture to this, right?"  
  
"I'll stipple it with a sponge -- you'll see. I've got to age the face now. False-Face is a little younger than you and a little older than Catwoman's father in this photograph."  
  
He reached to the table beside the makeup kit, picking up tools with wooden handles and wire at the ends. "Now I'm going to give you some smile lines. I assume even neo-Nazis smile once in a while."  
  
Batman watched in the mirror as Mr Terrific sculpted lines near the corners of his mouth.  
  
Mr Terrific finished with the sculpting and picked up a sponge. It seemed that the crimefighter from Gateway City had barely touched the sponge to the Derma Wax before the desired results were starting to be revealed.  
  
The Flash looked on in amazement. "Wow -- except for the color, it looks like skin!" he remarked.  
  
"That chalky whiteness will go away in just a bit." Mr Terrific set down the sponge and took an aerosol can from the makeup kit. "Fixative," he said. "Close your eyes and mouth, Bruce -- I'll watch out for your nostrils."  
  
Batman closed his eyes, feeling the spray where it contacted his own skin.  
  
"Okay, you can open your eyes, Bruce. "You've got the basic face. Now we finish it." Mr Terrific reached into the makeup case again, removing several small jars and brushes.  
  
"What's that stuff?" the Flash asked.  
  
"Acrylic paints to add color, to darken creases in the skin, to the give the skin the shadows and highlights. Relax, Batman, this is the easy part for you. Just sit perfectly still."  
  
Turning to the Flash, the advocate for 'Fair Play' said, "Flash, I ever tell you that several of my oil paintings have sold for a fair amount of money?"  
  
"I'm sure they have," the Flash responded just to humor his teammate who liked to list all his accomplishments.  
  
As Batman watched in the mirror, he could begin to see the new face emerge.  
  
"He's going to need that scar. Flash, I think it's safe for Catwoman to come in here now," Mr Terrific said. "She can't see Bruce's real face under the makeup now."  
  
Batman thought to himself that if Selina thought the face was good they might have a chance to pull this off.  
  
***  
  
The tunnel was larger than the other passages through which they had moved. Doctor Mid-Nite continued to lead the Green Lantern and the Atom underneath the nation's Capitol building. In the distance he could make out a faint glow of light from one of the lanterns. The three crime-busters had thus far eliminated thirteen of the estimated two-dozen Nazis beneath the Capitol complex. But traversing the square footage beneath the Capitol in the interlacing network of tunnels could take days in the enforced darkness and enforced silence, and they had only discovered three of the bombs that were laced with the deadly VX nerve gas.  
  
Doctor Mid-Nite kept moving. He felt a hand at his shoulder, it was the Atom.  
  
"Hold it, Doc," the Atom whispered in the darkness. "The radio is buzzing."  
  
The Atom whispered into the walkie-talkie, "Go ahead."  
  
Wonder Woman's voice whispered urgently in his ear. Under differerent circumstances, the Atom might had enjoyed it. "Atom, how's your progress?" she asked.  
  
"We've got a concentration of the Nazis up ahead, pretty lady," replied the Atom. "Sounds like more than a half dozen. We got thirteen bad guys so far. That leaves about eleven of the jack-booted scum. If they're all up ahead, maybe that's all the bombs."  
  
"Have you questioned any of the evildoers?" she asked. "We've got to know. There's less than an hour before Batman and Mr Terrific go into the House chambers -- before Batman meets the lion in his den, so to speak."  
  
"If I have to, Wonder babe, for you, I'll rip somebody's arms off and and beat them to death with them until they talk."  
  
"Atom!"  
  
"Okay, we'll see what we can do, gorgeous," Atom whispered. "Atom out."  
  
He replaced the radio on his belt and said to his two teammates, "They want us to question one of the prisoners to see how many bombs are really down here."  
  
The Green Lantern suggested, "Why don't we take these guys out and then have the Flash come down here and sweep through the tunnels at super speed? We're running out of time."  
  
"Good idea," Doctor Mid-Nite replied.  
  
The Justice Society of America's master of darkness looked at the fuzzy outlines of his companions. If all eleven remaining Nazis were by that single lamp, the odds would be nearly four to one.  
  
That's just the way they liked it.  
  
***  
  
"One last thing remains with the False-Face face, Batman, some five o'clock shadow."  
  
Batman looked first at Mr Terrific, then at the face in the mirror. At Mr Terrific's request, Hourman went to get Catwoman to bring her to the room. When she entered, she would get the full effect of the completed face -- the acid test of Mr Terrific's craftsmanship. The Gotham Avenger watched Mr Terrific as he dipped a sponge in paint.  
  
"This is a natural sea sponge, ever use it before? I'm going to tap it against this paper until it's almost dry, and then I'll dab it against your face. After that, we have fifteen minutes of drying time on the paints and then we apply the life mask of your own face. Of course, I've made a few changes to that mask so it won't look exactly like Bruce Wayne. That won't take to long, though."  
  
"When I take the cowl off, I'll immediately start ripping the life mask off. It'll only be a matter of a couple seconds." Batman explained. "What about your face? Do we have enough time?"  
  
"To make me look like the President?" Mr Terrific replied. "No sweat. We look similar. I can do it in fifteen minutes."  
  
"Don't you want me to help?" Batman asked.  
  
"Naw, if I need anything, the Flash has been a great assistant."  
  
The Flash smiled at the rare compliment from Mr Terrific.  
  
Batman glanced at the clock on the wall. "There's about forty-five minutes before we start walking into the House chambers."  
  
Wildcat rushed into the room and started to give his JSA teammates a message. "According to Flagg's report from what he refers to as his war room, False-Face plans to call his people outside the building at six A.M. and verify the blast at Reddington. And, of course, there won't be one."  
  
Batman said, "If False-Face makes his outside contact and learns we busted the President out, any element of surprise I'd have with this face will be out the window. So I've got to be in the House before his deadline."  
  
"Don't talk for a minute, I've got to work this around your mouth." Mr Terrific applied the sponge, while Batman watched in the mirror.  
  
"Just what are you planning to do?" asked Wildcat. "What's the purpose of the False-Face face and then another face over it?"  
  
Mr Terrific finished with the sponge and stepped back. "There, you can talk. But don't scratch your face."  
  
Batman swallowed hard. "I'm gambling on two things I know about False-Face. That he's insane and that he's brilliant. If I'm right on both counts, we've got a chance. If I'm not, there's going to be a fast and bloody battle and the bombs will be detonated under the Capitol complex."  
  
"But I thought Mid-Nite, Atom, and --" the Flash started to say.  
  
"Even if they find every bomb under the building itself, False-Face said he has other bombs planted around the city. If even one of those goes off, thousands of people will be killed and whoever he's got on the outside will then know the thing went sour and the give the orders for the other detonations. Bombs will go off in the world capitals, there'll be World War III in no time. False-Face knows that. He knows he's got us behind the eight ball."  
  
The face of the Flash looked ashen as he stood back, watching Batman. "Then how can you subvert him?"  
  
"It takes longer to explain than to do it. Go see if Hourman found Catwoman -- let's check Terrific's handiwork." Batman studied his face in the mirror and picked up the black-and-white photograph of Selina Kyle's father. He looked like her father's identical twin. The features, the long thin nose, the high cheekbones, the majestic angles of the brow made him feel like someone he wasn't. It was an eerie feeling, and he wondered if False-Face often felt the same.  
  
Batman stood up and looked at himself in the mirror once again. "Now get Catwoman," he whsipered.  
  
The Gotham crime-buster looked away from the mirror and to the door. The President entered first, followed by Hourman. After a long moment Selina Kyle walked in. He watched her eyes as she stood and stared at him. He saw a vulnerable, wounded look flood her face, and her lips started to move. "Papa ..." she cried. She fell against Hourman.  
  
"Papa," Batman repeated, looking back to the mirror. He saw the scar in the shape of a lightning bolt on the side of his neck. "False-Face," the World's Most Dangerous Man murmured.  
  
***  
  
Doctor Mid-Nite looked through his goggles. He could see fine in the darkness surrounding him. The Doctor intended to nab one of the Nazis and drag him away. He needed to keep one conscious so they could interview the man and find out if any more bombs were placed under the Capitol.  
  
Less than a half-hour remained before Batman would march Mr Terrific into the House chambers and face the evil False-Face.  
  
He moved ahead, listening of the slightest sound that would indicate something had betrayed his presence. And he listened to the Nazis too -- he needed one who spoke English well enough.  
  
One of the men seemed to be the leader -- he talked more than any of them and no one interrupted him. As Doctor Mid-Nite inched closer, he could hear the man speaking. "The risk we undertake is nothing compared to Herr False- Face's danger and the risks he has undertaken to bring about this glorious hour for National Socialism. Even if we die, we shall be remembered, our songs shall be sung. We shall live in the hearts of persons of destiny forever."  
  
The voice betrayed a slight German accent. The man spoke faultless if overly colorful English. He was perfect.  
  
Doctor Mid-Nite edged left, working his way to the hazy line where the glow of the camping lamp met the darkness. The Nazi leader sat at the edge of the circle of light with his back to the darkness. The JSA's master of the dark counted ten other men sitting nearer the lamp's glow. It was so perfect, Doctor Mid-Nite thought. He could grab the Nazi leader, hurl himself and the Nazi into the shadow and then, if need be, hurl one of his blackout bombs to cover his escape.  
  
But it would be better if he let the Green Lantern and the Atom take care of the ten other men. He knew if he didn't let the Atom take on the Nazis, he wouldn't hear the end of it for a week or so.  
  
The Doctor knew he had to be able to listen to the Nazis' conversation up the very last instant.  
  
He now began to crawl on his elbows and knees through the darkness. The Nazi's voice droned on. "Peoples of the world realize the benefits of truly superior leadership, this proverbial sword of Damocles that Herr False-Face will wield will become outmoded, unnecessary, superfluous in the truest sense. The obliteration of the Jews and the other inferior races --  
  
Doctor Mid-Nite just shook his head at the rhetoric he was listening to. If not being a Nazi was some badge of inferiority, he thought, he wore the badge proudly.  
  
He had ten yards to cover.  
  
One of the other men was talking. "Herr Mueller, the greatness of Herr False-Face is undisputable, that is certain. But these bombs, all of them here in the underground. I do not feel cowardly to admit my fears."  
  
Mueller edged forward into the light. "Damn," Doctor Mid-Nite cursed under his breath.  
  
The Nazi leader answered. "The six bombs here and the ninety-one bombs remaining --" There were only ninety remaining, Doctor Mid-Nite realized, Mueller didn't know the bomb recaptured in Reddington. "These devices, planted as they are, represent a threat that cannot be countered." The three-man JSA task force had taken three bombs. If there were three with these remaining eleven Nazis, the building at least would be cleared.  
  
Doctor Mid-Nite swallowed hard. He had to make his move. He leapt through the darkness like a jungle cat, running toward the Nazi leader, Mueller.  
  
He could see the movement as Mueller started to turn. One of the Nazis raised a weapon and Doctor Mid-Nite saw a beam of green light strike the gun and the weapon flew from the man's hands. Green Lantern's power ring had saved the day, once again.  
  
The other Nazis started reaching for the weapons. Doctor Mid-Nite threw his body forward, like a base runner reaching for home plate with the winning run. He felt the sudden impact against Mueller's body as he shoved the man forward, smothering him with his own body. As Mid-Nite tucked his head down, he saw a blur of motion in the air as the Atom jumped into the fray and started swinging and kicking at anyone who wasn't a law-abiding citizen.  
  
Doctor Mid-Nite's chest and upper body covered the Nazis head, pinning it face down in the dirt. He rolled off the Nazi leader. He could see flashes from Green Lantern's power ring and men flying through the air. When they landed -- they landed hard on the ground.  
  
Mueller started reaching for a pistol. Doctor Mid-Nite threw himself against Mueller. His right hand closed over Mueller's gun hand. The Doctor's left knee smashed up and forward. The Nazis lips sprang open in a scream, and vomit sprayed from his mouth as Mid-Nite broke Mueller's wrist and slammed the Nazi to the dirt floor.  
  
Doctor Mid-Nite felt a hand on his shoulder and grabbed for it. It was the Atom. "We got 'em all, Doc!" the crimefighter said.  
  
The Master of Darkness nodded. "They said there were six bombs under the Capitol -- see how many are here."  
  
He then bent over and picked the Nazi up roughly. "Alright, you refugee from the past, you're going to answer some questions."  
  
The Nazi's face was ashen, uncomprehending of what had just happened.  
  
The Atom came back and shouted at the Nazi, "Start tellin' us everythin' ya know before I do a number on your head!"  
  
Mueller looked at the Atom and spat at him.  
  
The Atom punched the man in the face. As the Nazi fell to the ground, he landed on his already broken right wrist. The man screamed in pain and sprawled forward.  
  
Green Lantern came over and informed Doctor Mid-Nite, "Two bombs here. One still missing."  
  
Mid-Nite nodded and then grabbed their prisoner by the hair. "We don't have time to fool with you. Unless you enjoy pain, you will answer our questions."  
  
The Atom shouted, "I'm gonna personally castrate one member of the superrace in ten seconds if ya don't lead us to the bomb!"  
  
Doctor Mid-Nite watched as Mueller's eyes widened disdainfully. Doctor Mid- Nite pulled harder on the man's hair.  
  
Mueller's face became distorted with pain, and the Atom rammed his foot into the man's testicles. The Nazi began to yell. "W-who are you?!"  
  
"Never mind who we are," the Atom replied. "Where's the last bomb, ya Nazi clown?"  
  
"I-it's ... it's a hundred yards farther down the tunnel. I-I'll tell you whatever you want to know -- just keep him ..." his eyes went to the Atom "... away from me!"  
  
Doctor Mid-Nite looked at the Nazi. He would had loved to let the Atom have his way and end the love life of a Nazi superman. Instead he slapped the man across the bridge of the nose and let the Nazi's head slump back into the puddle of vomit on the dirt floor.  
  
"Ah, why didna let me do that, Doc?!" the Atom exclaimed.  
  
Doctor Mid-Nite was all business. "Tie him up and then get on the radio and let them know upstairs that the Capitol tunnels are clear."  
  
It was seven minutes until six in the morning. The worst, he knew, was yet to come.  
  
To be continued ... 


	13. Chapter 13

JSA: The Face Of Evil  
  
By Bruce Wayne  
  
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters portrayed in this story are copyright by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit by the author.  
  
CHAPTER 13  
  
Mr Terrific painted over Batman's False-Face with liquid latex, then applied the life mask to the False-Face face, using latex, like glue, at the edges, leaving a flap free, "For you to rip it away with appropriate dramatic flair, Batman." He had blended the mask to the False-Face face at the hairline, at the sides of the face, underneath the chin, around the mouth area and around the eyes.  
  
Then using what Mr Terrific had called crepe hair, the crimefighter from Gateway City had constructed eyebrows and sideburns, attaching them with spirit gum to the life mask.  
  
The face looked pink, distorted.  
  
Mr Terrific then trimmed the facial hair to a neat appearance and utilized Creme-Stick makeup to give flesh-tone color to the latex mask, two tones lighter for highlights, two tones darker for facial shadows. He used the sea sponge again to once more simulate five o'clock shadow.  
  
Batman caught a glance at the clock on the wall. It was nearly six o'clock.  
  
Mr Terrific stepped back. "Subtler facial expressions are impossible. Eyebrow movement won't be much, if anything. Don't get closer to anyone than ten feet with this, and you'll make it. Good thing you'll have your mask on for most most of the time."  
  
"Yes," Batman agreed. "I'll take the cowl off and then quickly rip the life mask off to expose the face of False-Face to the world."  
  
"Understood," Mr Terrific nodded.  
  
Batman walked toward the mirror, stopping about ten feet short. It was nearly the face of Bruce Wayne but Terrific had made some changes that altered the facial shape. The Caped Crusader extended his right hand to his fellow crime-buster, "Terrific, you're a genius."  
  
"I know," he replied immodestly.  
  
The Flash clapped Mr Terrific on the shoulder with his left hand and asked, "Is there anything else I can do, Terrific?"  
  
"No, we're all set. While Batman's face was drying, I was doing my own," Mr Terrific explained.  
  
Batman turned to the President, "I say we put you on a helicopter and fly you out of here in case one of the bombs goes off."  
  
"I'll stay," The President said. "After you gain control of the House chamber, I'll come in to prove that I'm fine and retake the reins of government."  
  
Hourman held Batman's cowl and cape. The Gotham Goliath took the cowl and slipped it onto his head and pressed the snap at the bottom that held it in place. He then took his cape and slipped it on, securing it around his neck.  
  
He looked to Mr Terrific who had quickly changed into civilian clothes. "I'm ready when you are, Terrific," Batman said. "We have four minutes for a brisk walk."  
  
"As you say, Batman." the disguised Mr Terrific said.  
  
"Good luck, gentlemen," Hourman extended his hand to Batman.  
  
"Batman took it. "Keep an eye on Catwoman for me, in case --" He didn't finish.  
  
As the two crimefighters were walking toward the door, Selina whispered to Batman, "Come back to me."  
  
Batman looked at her beautiful face. "I always do," he replied.  
  
Then he turned and followed Mr Terrific through the doorway.  
  
***  
  
"Hold the good thought, Terrific," Batman told him through clenched teeth.  
  
"I'm an expert at that, Batman," the crimefighter disguised to look like the President of the United States answered in a hoarse stage whisper, clearing his throat as he walked ahead. "Don't try for an Oscar. Just a good solid performance brings home the bacon."  
  
The Nazis near the corridor beyond Statuary Hall were coming forward into the hall itself. One of them shouted, "Halt!"  
  
"I must be allowed to enter immediately. This man with me is the President -- plans in Reddington have gone awry," Batman answered in his best False- Face German accent. The Caped Crusader prodded Mr Terrific with the palm of his hand, and then he played his card. "I am False-Face! The man in there who claims to be False-Face is a liar, an imposter, a fraud."  
  
"You cannot --" the Nazi began.  
  
Batman interrupted. "When history is rewritten, do you wish to be remembered as the man who tried to bar your fuhrer from the last step needed for world conquest?"  
  
"Y-you are that B-Batman," the Nazi shouted back nervously.  
  
In his own voice Batman said, "I am Batman." Then in the German-accented False-Face voice he added, "but only since the fiasco in Florida at Cape Canaveral. I killed Batman there and exchanged places with him in order to escape the American authorities. They actually flew me out."  
  
Mr Terrific turned, staring at him. Batman had not outlined his plan fully. Either Terrific, disguised as the President, was truly a consummate actor or he was actually beginning to believe the Masked Manhunter's story himself, Batman thought.  
  
"That is --"  
  
"Impossible?" Batman finished the Nazi's statement. "But I am False-Face, and you should know that the word 'impossible' is meaningless in the face of inexorable destiny of the Reich. Flank the sides of the corridor, and order your men in the hall beyond and as I enter the House chambers to do the same. I will enter now!" Batman pushed Mr Terrific in the back, then started forward.  
  
"I sure hope you're a good actor and I'm not a lamb being led to the slaughter," Mr Terrific whispered.  
  
In his own voice Batman muttered, "Relax." He thought he detected a slight nod from the advocate for 'Fair Play.'  
  
The Nazis were fanning back. He was no more than six feet from the nearest of them. He wondered suddenly about Mr Terrific's makeup job. There was nothing he could do if it didn't work, despite the fact he was close.  
  
The Nazis were staring at him -- but they had never seen Batman, he realized. He prodded Mr Terrifc ahead, through the corridor and into the hallway. Submachine-gun-armed Nazis were ranked on each side of him, assault rifles brandished, as he passed through the cloakroom areas and into the House chamber itself.  
  
On the intermediary dais stood the man he had been told was False-Face.  
  
Batman started down the central aisle, pushing Mr Terrific ahead of him. As Batman, he spoke. "All of you! The man who calls himself False-Face is an imposter. He is an American agent. I am False-Face!"  
  
The man at the podium laughed. "Liar!" he shouted.  
  
Batman kept walking as Nazis closed in on each side. He could recognize the bomb expert "the Boomer" the man responsible for setting all the charges. The Boomer stood beside the man at the intermediary dais. In his False-Face voice the Dark Knight from Gotham City shouted "The American agent had all of you fooled then, even you, Boomer!"  
  
Batman could see the muscles twitch in the Boomer's face as he drew nearer to the dais. The Gotham Avenger changed his plan. If he could get Boomer, he would have all the bombs. For the moment Boomer's survival would have to be his main concern. And then he could take care of False-Face, as he had wanted to all along.  
  
In his False-Face voice, Batman kept talking -- there was nothing else to do as he walked toward the dais. Snipers were everywhere in the gallery. "It was an elaborate plan, Boomer, to force you into revealing to him the exact whereabouts of the remaining bombs."  
  
On each side of Mr Terrific and him as they walked, Batman recognized faces he had seen in newsfilm, in the papers, in magazines, senators, members of the House. Ahead, the Joint Chiefs of Staff, justices of the Supreme Court, members of the cabinet.  
  
"At the last moment he was to have engineered some agreement from the Americans. They were to acquiesce," Batman said as he saw that armed Nazis guarded each entrance and exit. Beside the exit at the left side of the dais, sat the chief sergeant at arms.  
  
"Liar!" the figure yelled from the podium.  
  
Suddenly Batman heard the voice of Colonel Flagg coming from the television monitor placed on a desk to the right of the dais. "False-Face, the other powers have acquiesced. Please, False-Face, stop the bomb in Reddington. It's a minute before six, sir. Please!"  
  
Batman stopped a dozen feet from the dais. "Did you really think, Boomer," the Caped Crusader shouted, laughing, in his best False-Face voice, "did you really think the Americans would so easily acquiesce? Don't let him contact Reddington -- let the bomb explode!"  
  
It was the Boomer who spoke. "How did you free the President?"  
  
"I did not free him, Boomer. I went to Reddington, I established my identity and alerted them to the American agent's having substituted for me. But I escaped the Americans. And with me the President as my hostage, I came here. There is still time. They do not know where the bombs are beyond those in the Capitol complex."  
  
"They know of these!" the Boomer exclaimed, surprised.  
  
"The detonator -- you designed it." It was Batman's biggest gamble. Doctor Mid-Nite, Green Lantern, and the Atom had found all the bombs -- at least the Nazi they interrogated had indicated six to be all there were. But the gamble wasn't on his fellow crimefighters. The gamble was that the detonator would trigger only those bombs immediately beneath the Capitol. "Go ahead, Boomer, activate the bombs beneath the building. If I am lying, what do I have to gain by all of us dying? Better yet, ask the man who calls himself False-Face, he who stands beside you, ask him to work the detonator for the bombs beneath our feet. I know there were six. Does he?"  
  
Batman stood to the far right of the dais, near the door where the chief sergeant at arms sat. He judged he could count on the white-haired, older man's grabbing a gun at the first opportunity.  
  
No one moved. The Boomer said nothing.  
  
Batman heard a voice behind him shouting, "Go ahead, press your damn button!" He knew the voice as a familiar politician.  
  
Boomer reached in front of the man at the podium. "I push the button, for good or for bad!"  
  
"The man at the dais shouted, "No, Boomer!"  
  
The Boomer wrestled the detonator free and held it high over his head. While Batman watched, the mad bomber's right index finger moved to the button.  
  
Batman judged that everyone in the House chamber could see him, except perhaps for a few dozen legislators immediately behind him. He took off his cowl and then reached for the flap of the latex life mask, ripping the mask away. A snapping peeling sound echoed in the otherwise total stillness.  
  
"This is the face of False-Face!" Batman shouted. He turned to survey the room, watching, then focused his attention on the man who stood behind the podium. The man's jaw dropped, and he stared in open-mouthed astonishment.  
  
When it came, the voice was not from the figure Colonel Flagg had addressed as False-Face, but from the white-haired chief sergeant at arms.  
  
"Damn you, Batman! This time I'll kill you myself!" His eyes were wide and filled with pure hatred, and the shout of vengeance cut through the tension- filled room like a knife through flesh. The chief sergeant at arms wrestled an assault rifle from the bewildered Nazi standing next to him and ran through the side exit from the House.  
  
Batman tried to grab the fleeing figure but missed.  
  
Hearing the sound of a disturbance in the chamber, Colonel Flagg gave the word to Wonder Woman and the Flash to crash into the House.  
  
At that moment, the voice of Mr Terrific shouted out, and Batman turned back to the podium. The crimefighter from Gateway City wrapped his arm around the Boomer's head.  
  
"We're members of the Justice Society of America. False-Face's men -- lay down your arms. Boomer is the only one who can activate the rest of your bombs, and he's now under my control. If you don't surrender, I'll just twist his head off! Either way, your game is up!"  
  
No shots were fired.  
  
The Flash sped through the entire House chamber and disarmed anyone he saw with a weapon. As one person later said, "I just saw a red blur."  
  
One of the Nazis threw his hands up. "It's finished," he said, "perhaps for good this time."  
  
Batman shouted, "Mr Terrific, I'm going after False-Face!"  
  
The Dark Knight from Gotham pulled his cowl back over his head and started running. Once through the doorway, he could hear gunfire to his right, toward the Senate side of the Capitol, and he dashed toward it. Running toward the sound of a fight was something he had been doing all his life, he reflected.  
  
Batman could see Colonel Flagg ahead of him near the spot where the corridor spilled from Statuary Hall. "Colonel, get some men back to check out every office, every closet, I'm looking for the chief sergeant at arms -- it's False-Face."  
  
"Holly shit!" Flagg shouted. "He went past me less than two minutes ago, running toward the Senate side."  
  
"Wonderful," Batman muttered, turning into the corridor. Flagg ran after him, shouting orders the Masked Manhunter didn't want to listen to.  
  
Batman's feet padded the black-and-white floor tiles of Statuary Hall. The gunfire ahead of him louder now.  
  
"What's going on out there, Colonel?" Batman called over his shoulder.  
  
"Maybe a couple of Nazis in the Rotunda. I don't know. Our guys were more interested in getting inside than taking prisoners!"  
  
Batman skidded on his heels, hugging against the wall of the corridor that fed into the Rotunda. To the east, to his right, he could see Doctor Mid- Nite and the Atom fighting a number of men on the far side of the Rotunda.  
  
Flagg was behind him. "I'll get some more men up here. Looks like --"  
  
"No," Batman snapped, and ran into the Rotunda. He was tired of people getting in his way.  
  
The Atom, he saw, dodged a bullet that bounced off a statue.  
  
A Nazi armed with an M-1 carbine pushed out from behind a statue, and Doctor Mid-Nite tackled the man.  
  
Batman found one Nazi hiding behind another statue and dispatched him to a nap on the Capitol floor.  
  
As fights go, Batman thought, this one was no more than a brushfire, over almost as soon as it started. Wonder Woman arrived to join Doctor Mid-Nite, Colonel Flagg and a half-dozen law enforcement officers. They had quickly and efficiently overcame any resistance from the Nazis.  
  
Batman addressed his allies. "I want False-Face. He's impersonating the sergeant at arms --"  
  
"Good God!" shouted Doctor Mid-Nite. "He ran past just a minute before you arrived here in the Rotunda. He ran through that doorway over there," the Master of Darkness pointed to the rear of the Rotunda.  
  
"He couldn't have gotten through," Colonel Flagg said. "There are Capitol police all over that side, not a chance. They were told to shoot anyone on sight -- anyone, even their mothers."  
  
"Wonder Woman, where would he go -- you know the Capitol," Batman asked.  
  
The Amazon Princess answered. "He wouldn't go down. We had a radio link into the television cable set up from the House chamber, and I heard what you told them about what happened in the tunnels beneath the building. If False-Face thought there was a remote chance you were telling the truth, he wouldn't go down."  
  
"What about up?" said Batman, scanning the inside of the dome with his eyes.  
  
"There's a winding staircase, kind of old, not such in good shape, really,"Wonder Woman said, "leading up to the top."  
  
Batman concentrated on the robed figures painted on the ceiling of the dome one hundred eighty feet above him.  
  
Wonder Woman spoke again. "They used to let visitors up there, but they threw things or scrawled on the walls. Some of the stairs just plain wore out. Now you can get up there with a security guard for a companion. But that's the only place False-Face could go from here. You can get out onto the outside of the dome but what will he do after that?"  
  
"I don't think False-Face's thinking about 'after that,'" Batman told the female hero. "He knows -- and I know. He couldn't rebuild from this, never get an organization like this going again. He's waiting for me."  
  
"I'll go with you," Wonder Woman volunteered.  
  
"No, I'll go alone. That's what he wants now, and I'm more than happy to give him what he wants."  
  
Batman looked down at the floor. "Get somebody to interrogate the Boomer. We need to know where the rest of those bombs and VX nerve gas canisters are located and get them back, if we can."  
  
The Caped Crusader made for the doorway in his search of the Nazi madman.  
  
To be concluded in the final chapter ... 


	14. Chapter 14

JSA: The Face Of Evil  
  
By Bruce Wayne  
  
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters portrayed in this story are copyright by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit by the author.  
  
CHAPTER 14  
  
Wonder Woman led Batman to the base of the stairs that ran to the top of the Capitol dome. "Here you are," said the Amazon Princess.  
  
Batman nodded and began his ascent to the top.  
  
In the darkness now, he climbed the stairs. The treads were narrow, and the stairs steep and winding.  
  
Batman felt his own sweat, smelled it in the dusty darkness. And he felt something he had often felt before, something that had more than once kept him alive.  
  
His sixth sense of impending danger.  
  
The man somewhere above him was Karl Kyle -- known better as False-Face -- a criminal, mass murderer, maniacal Nazi. A man who would kill without thinking twice. A man who had led a group of killers. A man who had threatened the world with an unthinkable horror unless the world surrender to him. A man who would kill woman and children to achieve his ultimate goal of world conquest. A man who needed to be brought to justice.  
  
False-Face would be armed. But he had something that made him more dangerous than any weapon he would had obtained. Like a cornered animal, he entertained no expectations of coming down the staircase alive.  
  
The Masked Manhunter from Gotham City knew how hunters felt pursuing a wounded tiger in dense jungle undergrowth, one that had tasted human blood and liked it -- a man-eater.  
  
Batman kept moving.  
  
He had been on the staircase for nearly twenty minutes, but he doubted he'd risen more than fifty feet from the base of the dome.  
  
***  
  
False-Face tore away the makeup, laughing silently to himself. The face had shocked him. It had been Selina who had told Batman. He felt at the side of his neck and peeled all the makeup that covered the jagged scar. She had seen the scar. She had recognized him from the injury so many years earlier.  
  
Leaving the scar had been a vanity. It could have been removed, but he'd left it as a reminder of his origins.  
  
An expensive vanity, he realized, smiling in the darkness where he waited for the Batman.  
  
For company, he had a submachine gun and a pistol.  
  
He judged himself very near indeed to the top of the dome.  
  
After he killed Batman, he would fire down into the base of the dome, killing all he could, and perhaps force them to destroy their edifice in the process of capturing him.  
  
Or fire. He could burn their temple of democracy to the ground, and perhaps his own ashes would rise from it, phoenixlike, to soar again, to lead.  
  
False-Face shifted his mind to other thoughts and waited.  
  
Selina had become very beautiful. He had followed her career as Catwoman.  
  
He smiled. Seeing Selina, had he ever wished to assume her identity in one of his forgotten number of disguises, it would have been very easy. Her eyes were his eyes.  
  
He affected her voice, whispering into the darkness, "Batman, I love you so. Kill Karl for me, and I'll let you make love to me, darling --" And he laughed. He would kill Batman, avenging himself on the one man who had any success in confronting him. And if Selina loved this Batman, then he would kill her inside, as well. "Oh, Batman," he whispered, again affecting his sister's voice. "Why did you have to die, darling?" And he laughed again.  
  
Beneath him, he heard the creaking of a board.  
  
Batman was coming.  
  
It was a surprise worthy of a last gesture. He smiled, tucking back against the stairs, waiting.  
  
***  
  
Batman took the next tread, the one he left creaking again, as it had when he'd first shifted weight onto it.  
  
And then he heard it.  
  
"Batman, darling. I'm up here, I'm waiting for you. Hurry, please hurry to me, Batman -- please."  
  
It was Selina's voice. Batman started to call out to her.  
  
He shook his head. The JSA members wouldn't have let her take the stairs in pursuit of False-Face.  
  
"Batman, please -- I'm hurt. Is that you, Batman? Please let it be you."  
  
It had to be Selina. Batman wanted to call out to her.  
  
Again he heard her voice. "Batman, I want to make love to you right here on the stairs," and then the laughter, loud, insane, inhuman. The German- accented voice rang out, "Batman, my sister is so vibrant-looking. Is she good in bed? I'd always meant to find out."  
  
Batman didn't reply.  
  
He heard Selina's voice again, "Come and hold me, Batman. Make all this go away. My loins ache for you, Batman -- come to me."  
  
A stair creaked again. He knew it was a mistake as soon as his foot hit the tread. The air around him immediately came alive with splinters of wood, chunks of plaster and the whine of submachine gun bullets as he tucked back against the stairs, covering his head with his left arm.  
  
The submachine-gun fire persisted, then suddenly stopped. Then it started again. He tucked back as the subgun fire hammered into the stairs and walls around him. Splinters of wood and jagged chunks of plaster sprayed across his body.  
  
The voice again. "Batman, oh, Batman -- come to me now, make me feel it, Batman -- I'm wet for you. Can you smell it?" And then False-Face's own voice, "Am I entertaining you, Batman -- hmmm?"  
  
"Go fornicate yourself, you dastardly villian. If anybody could, it'd be you," Batman shouted up into the darkness.  
  
"Now that's really being a spoilsport, Batman, really. Such talk. You want me, come and get me." Selina's voice added, "I'm waiting, Batman, only for you."  
  
Batman felt the tendons in his neck tense. He wanted to strike something. He wanted to race up the stairs into the darkness and find False-Face's neck and snap it in his hands. He waited.  
  
He had been pinned on the stairs for over ten minutes. False-Face would have changed positions, he thought, moving up slowly, silently.  
  
He began to move himself, getting up on his hands and knees.  
  
One step.  
  
He started up another, then froze. "I can hear you coming, Batman. Would you like to hear from Catwoman again, hmmm?" There was a pause, then Selina's voice reached out from the darkness, "Batman, are you coming to me, darling? I've been fantasizing you'd come, how it would be, Batman. Mmmm ... Batman I want to feel you!"  
  
"Shut up," Batman shouted. He tucked back to avoid the inevitable hail of subgun fire, but none came.  
  
"Batman, I am going out onto the dome. I have had enough of this game. I think you pride yourself on honor -- then come and get me -- alone. I will be waiting."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Why? Very simple, Batman, very simple. Time grows short. Soon, if you do not come down, others will come after you. Doctor Mid-Nite. That horrible ape Hourman. Perhaps that Wildcat. You see, I want to kill you and you want to capture me. I shall be going up the stairs. Unless you wish to deprive yourself of the honor of arresting me, if you can, then I suggest you follow. Until later then, hmmm?"  
  
Batman heard the sound of movement.  
  
It was likely another trick of False-Face's. Soon it would be dawn, and helicopters would fill the skies around them.  
  
Cautiously, slowly, as soundlessly as he could, he crawled along the stairs. Ahead he could see a crack of light against the surrounding blackness. He stopped as he reached it. Slowly he opened the door.  
  
Batman peered out, squinting against the brightness sent up by the lights that illuminated the Capitol building.  
  
And then Batman heard Selina's voice. "Batman, I am waiting for you, here in the fresh chill of morning -- come to me."  
  
He edged closer to the voice, staring out.  
  
He was near the very summit of the dome, beneath the columns of the crowning lantern. On the top of the lantern stood the statue of the lady named "Freedom." She stood alone and proud, and Batman felt a little better for knowing that he was fighting on her side.  
  
Washington's lights blinked from the purple predawn darkness that cast an eerie glow on the nation's capital. Some had called it the City of Lies, but Batman would defend its right to exist with every muscle and tendon in his body.  
  
Stooping slightly, Batman stepped through to the outside.  
  
To his right he could see the top of the Washington Monument, the obelisk's whiteness stark against the murky dawn.  
  
The footing was narrow as Batman rose to his full height, leaning against the base that supported the columns.  
  
"False-Face!" Batman shouted the name into the wind.  
  
"Batman, come to me." False-Face was using Selina's voice again, but it came on the wind and Batman couldn't tell where it originated.  
  
He turned awkwardly on the narrow ledge. With his face pressed against the building, he reached up to foot of the columns, finding a handhold, waiting for False-Face to strike.  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
Batman clawed at the stone, pulling himself up, wedging his feet against the wall. With one final thrust he threw his body onto the floor of the lantern.  
  
"Batman!"  
  
He knew he was in trouble.  
  
"Don't move, Batman."  
  
Despite False-Face's admonition, Batman looked up.  
  
False-Face stood at the center of the circle within the columns, like a figure on a stage, the submachine gun held in an assault position, a smile on his lips.  
  
Batman studied the face for a moment. "Is that your real face now?"  
  
"Yes, do you find it interesting?"  
  
"Take it or leave it," Batman replied.  
  
"I wish to talk before I kill you, Batman."  
  
"They always do," the Caped Crusader muttered.  
  
"Your utility belt carries a number of weapons, correct?"  
  
"It does?" he replied in the form of a question.  
  
"The utility belt, Batman, remove it -- quickly."  
  
Batman unbuckled the yellow belt from around his waist and set it down.  
  
"Now, Batman, remember that I can kill you before you can do anything to me. So buy yourself a few moments of life -- we are both dead men. Kick the utility belt toward me."  
  
Batman nodded. With the tip of his boot, he slid the belt toward the villian.  
  
"Very good, Batman. Very good, indeed. Now step back carefully. Don't fall, hmmm?"  
  
Batman edged back, between two of the columns. The wind battered him, reaching out with unseen punches as if trying to knock him from the top of the dome.  
  
False-Face picked up the utility belt, shifting his subgun to his right hand only, and readied himself to throw the belt from the lantern.  
  
Batman saw his chance and kicked out with his right foot, catching False- Face in the chest. The Nazi dropped the belt and his submachine gun. The Dark Knight's left hand went for a roundhouse punch to the jaw of his opponent. As the arm came around, False-Face launched a kick of his own. The pain in Batman's left wrist was suddenly wrenching at him.  
  
False-Face's right hand now held a revolver, and Batman threw himself toward the Nazi, smashing his left shoulder into the criminal mastermind as the revolver discharged. The Masked Manhunter's body screamed at him, his flesh on fire, his ears ringing with the blast of the discharge. His left arm was alternately numbed, then ached like no pain he had endured before.  
  
Batman's right knee smashed up, crushing into False-Face's testicles. He felt the rush of foul air from the villian's mouth against his face.  
  
He crossed False-Face's jaw with a short right, and the evildoer's head snapped back against the stone.  
  
Batman dove to his right.  
  
False-Face's revolver cracked again and Batman's neck twisted as he felt fire crease his skin.  
  
The villian was already spinning away from the Caped Crusader. But False- Face lost his balance and fell back, toppling onto the floor of the lantern.  
  
Batman rolled onto his back, instinctively trying to touch his neck, but his left arm wouldn't respond with anything but fresh spasms of pain.  
  
He heard a voice: "Batman, come to me, darling!"  
  
False-Face was still taunting him.  
  
Batman pushed himself up so he could stand.  
  
He swayed on his feet, but started across the small platform toward the sun. The orb of light was a purple bruise below the horizon.  
  
Suddenly he felt a searing pain across his right hand and reeled back.  
  
False-Face held a bloodstained knife in his fist the way a swordsman would hold a rapier. "I'm going to cut you again and again until there's no tongue left in your mouth to scream," he yelled.  
  
The Nazi butcher stumbled forward.  
  
Batman staggered back against the column nearest him. Red and yellow floaters crossed his eyes from the pain as he sank forward, catching his ankle against the column.  
  
False-Face was lunging for him as he turned, and Batman felt a fresh stab of fire as the knife slashed across his chest. He fell back, almost toppling over the side. His left foot kicked out against his opponent's knife hand, and False-Face fell back, screaming.  
  
Batman summoned up all his remaining strength and made a move toward the villian. His right foot snapped out, catching the Nazi madman against the left side of the head. False-Face rolled with the blow, and when he came to his feet his left ear was running with blood.  
  
But False-Face fought with the determination of man who had nothing to lose. He ground the tips of his fingers into Batman's left shoulder, and the Gotham Goliath reeled back in pain, falling against one of the columns.  
  
False-Face moved in for the kill, but Batman spun away, backhanding his bloodied right fist across the villian's face, hammering False-Face back.  
  
The would-be Nazi fuhrer stood, swaying, his nose broken, his face covered with blood. "You bastard," he screamed.  
  
Batman lunged at False-Face, his right fist rocketing forward. The blow glanced off the side of the criminal's neck, and the Nazi threw himself at the Caped Crusader.  
  
"Well, Batman," False-Face sneered. "It looks as if your luck has finally run out."  
  
Batman was about to answer, when he heard Catwoman's voice behind him. "I hate you!" she shrieked. The Dark Knight from Gotham prayed she was talking about False-Face.  
  
As the two men circled each other, Batman glimpsed Catwoman out of the corner of his eye.  
  
"Ah, Selina," Batman heard False-Face say. "So you came to see your champion die by my hand."  
  
She could see Batman's left arm hang uselessly at his side as False-Face grabbed him. The Masked Manhunter felt himself being inexorably pulled toward the edge of the lantern. He realized the Nazi planned to claim one more victim and drag him over the edge, as well.  
  
As the crazed Nazi angled them toward their death, Batman glanced back to see Catwoman leap into action. She was moving and jumping toward them in the early-morning darkness.  
  
The two men, the man she had come to love and her brother, kept fighting between the columns.  
  
"Batman --" she yelled.  
  
With all his remaining strength, Batman twisted away from the grip of the Nazi madman and dove for the stone floor of the lantern.  
  
Catwoman executed an incredible somersault and kicked out with both feet into the chest of False-Face.  
  
Batman watched as he saw the villian teeter on the edge of the abyss with just one foot. Then the body fell away and was gone.  
  
The Gotham City adventurer slowly got to his knees.  
  
His head sagged forward, and after a time he felt the cool stillness of Selina's hands against the flesh of his face.  
  
A moment later he heard Hourman's voice. "Catwoman, you should not have come up here without me," the big man admonished.  
  
There were words that Batman could barely follow. His body was on fire with pain.  
  
Soon Selina was at his side again. Her soothing voice told him that the Boomer had talked. It was funny how people talked when they were caught in a pair of giant green pincers that were provided by Green Lantern's power ring. Disposal experts were now on their way to retrieve the rest of the hidden bombs and canisters of VX nerve gas.  
  
The rising sun infused the dome with a flush of pink. Batman closed his eyes. He wanted to sleep -- there would be time for the rest later.  
  
The Justice Society of America of Earth-Two had once again saved the world from the brink of ultimate disaster. It was the dawning of a new day.  
  
-- Finis --  
  
This concludes the False-Face trilogy. The JSA will return in a brand new epic sometime in early fall. I hope whoever is reading enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.  
  
My next project will be a modern Batman tale. Please look for it on FFN. 


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